The Escort
by Don't Preach
Summary: New Chapter! Hiroki is a man with a troubled past. Part of his trouble is his unrequited love. After a series of lies about a mystery "boyfriend," to save his pride, a desperate Hiroki hires male escort, Nowaki, to be his date for a faculty function honoring Akihiko. It's a world of dark secrets and uncertain futures. Rated M for mature themes and adult content.
1. Favors and Lies

**New AN:**

**So this is going back up after being taken down last year to safeguard this fic from FF's MA purge. If you're at all familiar with my writing, you know that while I wander into adult content and explore sexual themes, the story (outside the occasional neko romp) is what I am most interested in. Citrus chapters occur pretty far into this fic.**

**If you have read this before, you'll see I have made some significant revisions to it. Hopefully these contribute to making what was one of my most popular stories an even stronger read.**

**If you are underage or think you might have issue with the themes or eventual sexual content of this story, I ask that you please click out now. I also ask respectfully that you not report this fic so that those who enjoy reading such work may continue to do so.**

**Many thanks!**

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><p><strong>Old AN:<strong>

**Now, there are all these fics out there where Hiroki is a veritable slut, and many fics where Nowaki is all but/or celibate before he meets Hiroki. So I thought it would be interesting to play with these conventions a bit.**

**So in this fic, Nowaki is a male prostitute. Despite this shift, I do want to try and keep the characters IC as much as possible (or at least what seems IC for me).**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Junjou Romantica or any of its character's.**

**Rated: M or generally R with occasional NC-17 moments.**

**Contains: Deals with the subject of prostitution and past abuse/trauma. Occasional profanity, violence, adult/sexual situations. Some non-con (more implied or moderately referenced than graphically shown).**

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><p><strong>The Escort<strong>

**Chapter One: Favors and Lies**

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><p>Hiroki glanced around his book-strewn apartment and sighed. Shifting his gaze over to the panda clock on the wall his mother had sent him as a housewarming gift when he'd moved into his first apartment, he saw it was almost noon.<p>

He pulled his glasses off and rubbed tired eyes.

Up since five a.m., he had been grading essays for his Intro to Japanese Literature class. He'd risen after deciding it was a waste of time to continue pretending to sleep. His mind unable, as it often was, to shut itself off from rearranging his dissertation intro and other far less productive thoughts.

At twenty-four and just finished with his Master's degree, Kamijou Hiroki was currently the youngest faculty member in the Japanese department at M. University.

It was rare that someone without his PHD yet would be hired by the administration as an assistant professor but, although Hiroki never felt as sure of the designation as the people ascribing the term to him did, he had been deemed "brilliant" by his professors at T University and M's Dean Takatsuki apparently agreed.

He was not quite as reputedly brilliant, however, as Miyagi Yoh, the senior professor he shared an office with and was now assisting. Miyagi had a six year head start on him though, so Hiroki knew such a comparison was hardly fair. Even so, his competitive nature had him convinced that matching and surpassing the older professor's reputation was merely a matter of time and hard work. And while Miyagi may have been the leading scholar in Japan and possibly the world on the writings of Matsuo Basho, Hiroki had soon realized that the senior professor had the common sense of a stone.

Running long fingers through his shaggy hair, Hiroki frowned. He had good reason to curse the man, and not simply because he was so far behind in his own grading since Miyagi had dumped all his own Intro essays on him to score as well.

_Fucking Miyagi._

The University's Japanese department had been trying to entice Usami Akihiko, one of the county's premiere novelists, to come and lecture since the release of his first book. And it was the idiot genius, Miyagi, decided to disclose at their last departmental meeting that his new subordinate was a friend of Usami-sensei's and proofread his manuscripts before Usami sent them off to his publisher.

Hiroki had been mortified when Miyagi offered this information. He'd briefly mentioned his relationship with Akihiko during a drunken exchange one night, not long after he had started working with King Basho. It had been the first and last time they'd gone out for drinks together.

They had gotten so plastered he'd never thought Miyagi would even remember the conversation, let alone pass along those facts to a room full of his cronies. To make things worse, it caused Hiroki wonder if Miyagi also remembered about the blow job he'd given him that night. He was still pissed that Miyagi had not bothered, until after he'd come, to cheerfully inform him that he was engaged and most decidedly not gay.

_Fucking Miyagi._

Hiroki released a long breath and glanced at his cell phone siting on the floor beside him. Outside an earlier call from his mother, which he'd let ring to his voicemail, it remained silent. It had been days since Akihiko had last called and he was currently not particularly social with anyone else.

_Should I call him?_

It was not in his nature generally to call Akihiko, however painful the waiting was, he preferred for his friend to ring him. Also if he called Akihiko, he ran the chance of looking like he needed something… needed him… and this was the last thing Hiroki wanted.

Ignoring the phone, the ache in his chest, and the twist in his gut, Hiroki pushed himself up off the floor and ambled stiffly into his flat's small kitchen.

He opened the refrigerator and peered inside only to be greeted by the dismal remains of numerous convenience store takeout containers. He eyed the cans of cheap beer amidst these with longing, despite the early hour, but eventually he opted instead for an energy drink.

Closing the fridge's door and leaning against it, he cracked the top to his drink and took a deep draught. Grimacing at the sugared rush of it. He thought of Miyagi and silently cursed the man again. Then he thought of Akihiko and his dark eyes drifted uncomfortably back towards his abandoned phone.

_But I do need him. And not just in the usual way now._

The head of the Japanese department, once he'd learned of his new assistant professor's relationship to Usami Akihiko, had of course sought him out after the meeting and all but begged for Hiroki to petition _Usami-sama_ to come and present on his novels. Being a low man on the departmental totem pole and desiring to advance at some point to an associate and then eventually full professorship, he had no choice now, however humiliating it was, but to hit Akihiko up for the favor.

A crisp rap on the front door pulled Hiroki from his distressing reverie; he knew the cadence of that knock all too well.

_It's the silver devil himself._

Hiroki loathed his heart's sudden pounding. He felt foolish too for stopping on the way to the door to glance in the mirror and make a vain attempt to rearrange his messy brunet locks.

Another determined rap sounded.

"I'm coming, Akihiko! Keep your damn trousers on!"

Internally Hiroki winced at his choice of phrasing; it conjured troublesome images. He moved quickly to the flimsy door before Akihiko took it upon himself to knock it off its hinges completely.

The moment he opened the door, the purpose of his friend's unexpected visit was clear: Akihiko was obviously on the lam, seeking refuge from his rabid editor.

_Again_.

Akihiko staggered in, half dead from overwork and silently handed over his newest manuscript for review. Dark-ringed eyes sought Hiroki's, who looked down at the pages in his hand and felt the other old thrill added to that of his friend's presence.

"Yeah, because I obviously have nothing better to do." Hiroki gestured to his essay-littered front room with the manuscript. Then he looked back at Akihiko who stood silently, waiting.

"Fine."

His grumble was half-hearted and brought a slight twitch to Akihiko's lips; this tiny shift in expression made Hiroki's heart leap. He put the annoyance he felt at this into his next words.

"Go lie down before you fall down, Idiot! I don't want to be tripping over the unconscious mess of you all afternoon!"

A look of gratitude filled violet eyes. Without saying a word still, Akihiko slipped off his loafers, stumbled into Hiroki's bedroom, and shut the door behind him.

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><p>When Akihiko emerged from his futoned cocoon six hours later, Hiroki was sitting on his cluttered front room floor, three quarters of the way through the new piece. Obviously still groggy, Akhiko wandered over to the refrigerator and helped himself to a can of beer.<p>

"So?" Akihiko called with casual interest. He leaned his long body against the counter and popped open the can, gesturing to the loose pages in Hiroki's hand.

"It's okay…

_Who am I kidding? It's breathtaking. _As soon as Hiroki had heard his bedroom door open, he'd hardly had time to wipe the tears of wonder from his eyes before Akihiko had come in.

Well, um, pretty good actually ," Hiroki answered carefully. "What I've read so far anyway. But I have couple hundred more pages to go and you know how important the ending is."

_ Even if it ended here it would still be a masterpiece_.

"When is this due?" He was only too well aware of Akihiko's difficulty with meeting his publisher's deadlines. He looked intently at Akihiko who was sipping his beer, pretendeding not to have heard the question.

Seeing Akihiko's mussed silver hair and lean, muscular frame highlighted by the single, low-wattage bulb in the kitchen made Hiroki's heart race again. He realized mournfully that, as usual, Akihiko's new work was not the only breathtaking thing he was encountering that evening.

When Akihiko refused to answer, Hiroki leveled one of his increasingly famous professorial scowls at him. Finally Akihiko acknowledged his glare with an eye roll.

"Two days ago," he offered with a shrug. He didn't press Hiroki further about his opinion of the work. He had seen the red pen lying _almost_ forgotten on the floor.

Akihiko knew his friend's scale of evaluation well enough, after all these years: That Hiroki said it was "pretty good" was more than satisfactory for him to feel assured of its worthiness for publication.

_Two days past_?

Hiroki had no idea how Akihiko's editor kept from throttling him. "Did you bring your laptop?"

Akihiko's expression grew pensive. It made Hiroki crazy how languidly the man seemed to move through his life most of the time.

"It's out in my car." Akihiko set his beer can down on the counter.

"Why in the hell didn't you bring it in, Moron?" Hiroki shouted, exasperated. "You know this isn't exactly the best neighborhood."

"It's in the trunk and I set the alarm," Akihiko's mild response showed he felt none of Hiroki's concern. He sighed and marveled, as always, at how tightly wound Hiroki was. As usual though, he kept his opinion to himself, not wanting to incite an eruption of mount Kamijou.

_Hiroki seriously needs to get laid… Soon._

Given their past, thinking about his best friend's sex life made Akihiko instantly uncomfortable. Looking for a distraction from this, he started patting his pockets trying to locate where he had last stuck his cigarettes.

"Well, don't just stand there. Go get it!"

Hiroki had planned to yell something else but stopped when he noticed Akihiko's graceful fumbling. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"They're in your coat pocket, and you can smoke outside while you get your computer. I don't want my house or my books smelling like an ashtray."

Akihiko's brow twitched both at his friend's understanding of him and at being barred from smoking inside. He reluctantly pushed himself away from the counter.

"You can make the corrections while I finish reading," Hiroki growled. "Kami-sama, how your editor puts up with you, Akihiko, I will never know."

"She's come under the spell of the infinite Usami charm," Akihiko drawled as he headed towards the door. He grabbed his keys from where Hiroki had set them on the low table in the entry way after picking them up from where he had dropped them on the floor on his way in.

Gathering his coat, Akihiko slipped into his shoes, and stepped out.

_Yeah, I know all about that goddamn Usami charm_, Hiroki thought miserably as he heard the door click shut.

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><p>Hours later Hiroki had finished reading not only Akihiko's novel but all his student essays as well. Akihiko was almost halfway through making his revisions.<p>

Peering over the edge of his reading glasses once more at the panda clock, Hiroki saw it was after two a.m. He was incredibly grateful that he had taught the courses he was presenting tomorrow previously, when he'd been a TA working on his Master's degree. This meant he already had lecture notes prepared in advance and would be able to brush up enough in the morning to get by.

If he'd been teaching one of his new courses tomorrow, spending his whole night on Akihiko's book and getting caught up on his grading would have totally fucked with his lectures.

He yawned."Look, stay as late as you want, but I'm going to bed. Not all of us have the life of leisure you do. Some of us have a schedule to keep and bosses who are not as forgiving of lateness as your editor."

"Fine," Akihiko mumbled, not looking up.

Hiroki knew that as soon as he left the room, Akihiko would go out on his balcony and smoke: they had been engaged in an unspoken battle of wills to see who would last the longest. However, Hiroki internally counted himself the winner, despite his withdrawal. While Akihiko looked as exhausted again as he had when he'd first arrived, unlike him, he had not had the benefit of a six hour nap.

"I think I have another hour or two here and then I'll join you." Akihiko's long fingers continued to fly over the keyboard as he studied Hiroki's recommendations. "It's too late to drive all the way back across town."

At this announcement, Hiroki's heart both leapt for joy and wept with despair.

"Suit yourself," he muttered, trying to sound casual. "But I'm not turning the heat down for you and if you touch the thermostat again, I'll throttle you! Last time you stayed over, I almost fucking froze to death during the night."

Akihiko's lips twitched up slightly at the warning, amused by his friend's sensitivity to temperature. For one who was so fiery, Hiroki seemed forever bothered by the cold.

Seeing Akihiko's smirk, Hiroki knew he'd better throw another blanket or two on the bed for himself.

As he rose to leave, Hiroki mustered his courage. He'd been wrestling with himself for hours now about asking Akihiko to come lecture. This was a good a time as any to approach him; after all, he'd just done him a hell of a service.

"Ah, Akihiko, I have a request. A favor actually." Hiroki hated the hesitancy in his voice.

_Damn,__ just grow a pair will you, Kamijou?_

Akihiko suddenly looked up; his eyes widening with concern. "Erm… look, Hiroki, when I said I'd join you, I didn't mean…"

Hiroki blushed furiously and chucked the red corrections pen he was still holding at him. He grew even more flustered when Akihiko caught it easily.

"Shut up, Asshole, it's not that kind of request. That wasn't my intention at all!" Hiroki wished he had a couch in this room so that he could crawl under it right now and die.

"I apologize, Old Man," Akihiko eyes gentled and soon filled with the particular kindness that drove Hiroki mad. "It's just that in all the time I've known you, you've only ever asked me to indulge you in a "favor" once before."

They both knew that he was referring to the one time, a little more than a year ago, that Hiroki had asked Akihiko to fuck him. Akihiko had been game at the time but the results of their tryst had been awful. It only made things worse for Hiroki too that while Akihiko seemed to have put the encounter behind them, he was still devastated by it.

Not that he ever allowed Akihiko to know that.

"Well, yeah… that was just for kicks, right?" Hiroki rubbed the back of his head as though this might somehow vicariously soothe the deep ache in his chest. "Uh… besides, I have a new boyfriend now, and it's getting kind of serious…" The lie tasted acidic in his mouth.

A glimmer of pleasure sparked in Akihiko's unusual eyes. He smiled fully for the first time that evening. The beauty of it pierced Hiroki's already badly bleeding heart.

"Congratulations! Why didn't you tell me earlier? I thought you'd sworn off relationships and men in general, for that matter, after what happened with Shinoda."

Hiroki felt his face grow hot at the mention of Shinoda's name.

After the miserable failure of his attempted seduction of Akihiko, he had hooked up with a dapper blond real estate agent. He'd met Shinoda while looking for apartments closer to campus. His current abode, however, was not one of the places Shinoda offered him.

_Thankfully_. _What a psycho._

His current home was much less expensive than the types of spaces Shinoda regularly showed. Not that he couldn't have afforded a better place; he simply preferred to spend his funds on books.

They'd been together for about six months when he had broken it off. It had taken him that long to realize as much as he tried, he really didn't love the man and he couldn't stay with (or continue being touched so intimately) by someone that he didn't have feelings for, despite how vehemently Shinoda had tried to convince him otherwise. In fact, not long after their breakup, Shinoda had stalked him at the University and had ended up making a very loud and visible declaration in the halls outside the departmental lounge. So, now the whole Japanese department and some other departments as well knew that their new hire was gay

While he was not ashamed of his sexuality, neither was Hiroki overt about it. For one thing, although things were shifting in the world at large, the department he taught in had a large contingent of older faculty, many of whom were not anxious to change their opinions about orientations they found distasteful. The whole Shinoda incident was another reason Hiroki really needed to get Akihiko to come speak: it would help redeem him from some of the lingering shame of that unfortunate occurrence.

Hiroki wondered how far he should push his new lie. He didn't want to get diverted too far before he lost the nerve to ask his favor.

"Well, you know… In the heat of the moment, swearing off seemed like a good move…" Hiroki tried to keep his voice light as he said this. "But old habits die hard."

"I knew you'd get back on the stick at some point," Akihiko punned, practically glowing. He was so happy for Hiroki's shift. It also relieved him of his lingering guilt for what had happened between them.

Then his expression sobered. "So how come you haven't mentioned him before? And, if it's getting serious, why isn't he here throwing me out then?

"Doesn't speak very well of your new fellow that he's not about when you have strange men dropping by to commandeer your bedroom. Your phone hasn't rung at all either."

Hiroki was always maddened that Akihiko's acute sense of perception was able to see and acknowledge everything around him, with the exception of fact that his oldest friend had, for years, been truly and deeply in love with him.

"I didn't tell you because I wasn't ready to deal with a bunch of questions, Usami. And I am not some damsel that needs looking after, Asshole! Hiroki sounded indignant, but really he was in a panic, trying to think of a way to make his lie sound more convincing in light of Akihiko's observations. "For fuck's sake, you're almost as irritating as my mother!"

"Just because I said it's getting serious doesn't mean we have to co-habitate. He has his own place and our schedules don't always match up the best.

"He's still a student, studying, uh, medicine." Hiroki had just recently read a novel about a young doctor. "So his studies take up a lot of his time. And he works nights and they don't like him to call at all while he's working."

"Hardly here _and_ hardly available? Hmmmm… He sounds perfect for you." Akihiko joked. But then asked sincerely, "Are you truly happy with him?"

From what he knew of Hiroki and his friend's seeming state, Akihiko wondered how good the relationship could really be. He feared Hiroki was simply continuing along on his trajectory of disastrous relationships and disappointing affairs.

Hoping that his voice sounded sure, Hiroki avoided Akihiko's eyes and studied the floor. "Mmmmm. Very.

"He's tall, good looking, and, um, reasonably intelligent." He couldn't believe the shit he was feeding Akihiko or that Akihiko honestly seemed to be buying it.

Akihiko could tell that his questions had become too invasive. As long as he'd known him, Hiroki, with the exception of literature, always had great difficulty talking about things he cared about.

"Sorry, Hiroki. I know it's really none of my business." Akihiko offered this, indicating his willingness to abandon the subject of his agitated friend's love life. "But you're my best friend and I care about you."

_Not enough_, Hiroki thought miserably.

He wasn't usually like this, but after the discomfort he'd just experienced, he felt the need to punish Akihiko.

"Speaking of _boyfriends_," His voice was laden with sarcasm, "How's Takahashi?"

Akihiko's eyes narrowed. He regarded Hiroki with disappointment.

"Well, your new love interest obviously hasn't tempered your cruelty at all, Kamijou." The warmth of his earlier tones had quickly faded and the frost on the edges of his voice was biting. "Your reference to my unrequited seems rather a low blow, especially considering your own recent good fortunes."

Then Akihiko's voice shifted to the particular timbre that was reserved only for speaking of Takahashi Takahiro. To Hiroki this had come to sound like fingernails on a chalkboard.

"His little brother has been having a lot of health problems lately, so he's been so wrapped up in that and his job. I've hardly seen him at all in weeks. "It's so honorable the way that he has taken on all the responsibility of his brother. Takahiro's Misaki is a very lucky boy."

Akihiko sighed, irritated with Hiroki for bringing Takahiro up when he so obviously (and for no apparent reason that he could ascertain) disliked Takahashi. Akihiko was also disappointed in himself for being jealous of a sickly child he'd never met. Having had enough of this painful subject, his mind wandered around again to the thing that had been the origin of their conversation.

"So back to your request… What is it then?"

Under the scutiny of Akihiko's violet gaze, Hiroki was mentally kicking himself.

_What a stupid way to go about asking a favor, completely upset the person you're making the request of first._

_Great going, Kamijou! Your conversational skills and adept diplomacy have once again worked their wonders_. He felt the familiar and unwanted blush creeping back into his cheeks.

_Oh, what the hell, I might as well ask and take the rejection so I can at least give my department chair his answer_.

"Look, Akihiko…" He shifted uncomfortably. "I wondered if you would come talk about your work...You know, give a lecture at 'M'."

Akihiko made a face. In any other situation, seeing the usually impassive countenance so contorted might have gone as far as eliciting a laugh from Hiroki.

"This isn't your request. Is it, Hiroki?" Akihiko carefully studied his friend. "It's someone else's." He sighed deeply and began patting his pockets down again. "You know how much I hate that kind of thing."

"Your cigarettes are on the counter, Akihiko." Hiroki stepped over to retrieve them. "I do know. And the head of my department requested that I ask." He thought for a moment it might have actually been easier when he'd asked Akihiko to fuck him.

"So here I am, as a friend, requesting this fucking favor. All I need from you is a _yes_ or a _no_." Already mortified enough by Akihiko's earlier assumption, Hiroki was not about to degrade himself further by begging.

"It would help you in the department?" Akihiko started to rise.

"Yes." Hiroki tossed the pack to him and began to move towards the short hall that led to his bath and his bed without waiting for an answer.

Walking over to the sliding glass door to the apartment's tiny balcony and Akihiko opened it. Before he stepped out he looked back at Hiroki's retreating form.

"Okay.

"I'll tell Aikawa-san tomorrow and she'll have Isaka-san set it up."

Hiroki stopped and turned back, his cheeks hotly flushed. He dipped his head slightly.

"Thanks," he murmured just loud enough for Akihiko to hear.

Akihiko offered a slight, tense smile and shrugged before he moved outside and slid the door closed behind him.

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><p>Hiroki got ready for bed and fell into his futon. Two hours later, Akihiko slipped in and crawled under the covers next to him. Hiroki knew this because he couldn't sleep, despite how exhausted he was. It was like this for him whenever Akihiko was around, churning up things within him that refused to be stilled.<p>

He waited breathlessly until he was sure Akihiko was asleep. Once out, Akihiko was a profoundly deep sleeper; Hiroki knew this since they had often shared a bed when they were younger. Akihiko spending almost more at the Kamijou home than his own until they were in high school.

When he felt assured that his friend was asleep, in increments Hiroki inched over until their backs were almost touching. Then Akihiko shifted in his sleep: moving over, settling his broad shoulder's against Hiroki's slighter narrower ones.

Feeling the solidity of his own unrequited behind him, so close and yet simultaneously so infinitely far away, Hiroki finally, silently, allowed his tears to carry him to sleep as Akihiko slumbered unknowingly on.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading and please consider dropping me a review.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2: The Call

**So for those of you who have alerted to this story, I am re-posting this back on FF and will then be adding new chapters. If you don't wish to be notified of the re-post, you might to unfollow this fic for a time. If you're re-reading this, you'll note this was originally the first chapter. I am revising this fic as I go and have shifted some things around to help the flow of the story. There's more AN and a revised first chapter posted you might want to visit.**

**If you're re-reading, I appreciate the faithfulness. If you're new, welcome to the ride.**

**Either way, I thank you for enduring my insanity.**

**The Escort**

**Chapter Two: The Call**

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><p>Nowaki rolled over in bed. He picked his cell phone up off the nightstand, and turned it on. It was almost noon.<p>

_I need to get up._

However, his last client had wanted him to linger and had offered to pay him so much extra he couldn't refuse. He'd ended up staying out with the man until almost five a.m.

Pulling the extra pillow over his head, Nowaki wanted to pretend he didn't now know the time. He was tired in ways that he'd never experienced when he used to spend almost eighteen hours a day shuffling between part-time jobs.

Nowaki marveled at his exhaustion. _Funny... It's not like Decker-san was even that difficult._

The client in this last, extensive, engagement was an accomplished German entrepreneur visiting Tokyo on business who had wanted an evening of relaxation after a long week of grueling meetings.

This was not an uncommon profile for one of Kusama Nowaki's tricks: he was no common hustler.

While his "manager," Matsuo, ran flesh on a number of tiers, the high end of Matsuo's business, his "Elite Escorts'" service, catered to rich and powerful individuals looking for "entertainment." And at this level, the pimp only accepted clients on a referral basis and even then he was very selective.

Nowaki belonged to the elite class. It was a strict stable of men who were smart, clean, and good looking. Matsuo's stock here was groomed to meet and exceed his customers' expectations.

Turning over onto his back, Nowaki threw the pillow aside again and covered his eyes with one long muscular arm. He growled at his lingering fatigue as if this might drive it away.

As he worked nights most often now, he had fitted the single bedroom of his small apartment with special blinds to keep the intruding daylight out. Lifting his arm and looking at his phone again, in his darkened room, the illuminated display screen on his cell showed he'd missed several of his manager's calls.

_Matsuo's not going to be happy._

According to the time, he should have been at the man's office two hours ago to hand over his share of last night's extra fees; pick up his schedule for the weekend; and have his bi-monthly blood test taken.

_Maybe if I give him half of my tip he won't be too upset._

The loss of the extra yen would hurt, but Decker had taken him to dinner at a very exclusive restaurant, then the symphony, and then back to his luxury hotel afterwards. The symphony wasn't usually his cup of tea, the twenty year-old preferred his music to be more contemporary, but he'd been awed by the performance. Decker loved music and had offered little insights to the pieces too that had only heightened Nowaki's experience of them. It was an evening that the escort could have never managed on his own and this was worth something to him.

Initially he had been a little wary about going out with the German. Although he had a few good foreign regulars, Nowaki had found, for the most part, his non-Japanese trade tended to be more unpredictable.

Fortunately, Decker had proven to be remarkably amiable and his Japanese language fluent, so that helped. It had been a bit strange, however, for Nowaki to find himself with someone who was as tall as he was. His clients were most often native and generally considerably shorter than he.

Not that this difference mattered much generally, once they were horizontal.

As well as being good company, Nowaki was also a good fucker, if that was what the man/woman he was escorting wanted, though Matsuo's patrons were primarily male.

Nowaki stretched out his legs and wiggled his toes as he reflected on last night's post-entertainment "entertainments."

That Decker's cock was cut had been different too for him: few of the men he serviced had ever been circumcised. In addition to being cut, however, the German had also been incredibly thick and the thought of having to accommodate the businessman in "that way" had made Nowaki uneasy.

While Nowaki was remarkably comfortable with most sex, this was an aspect of his recently shifted status from pure escort to consort-escort that he still struggled with at times: he really preferred to top. Still, although he'd found himself on the receiving end more often than he'd liked, so far Matsuo had been generally good about matching him up with his proclivities.

_At least I didn't have to bottom for him._If he had, Nowaki doubted that his lower half would be feeling quite so limber this morning.

In the end, the escort had been relieved to find after their long evening together, all Decker wanted from him was an extensive "oral" performance. Something else Nowaki excelled at. He'd managed to navigate the German's fat cock admirably.

It helped things that Decker was on the older side; so, he hadn't been quite as resilient as some of the men Nowaki encountered.

In between rounds and afterwards, the businessman had spent the remainder of the night talking about his family back in Germany: his wife and two beautiful daughters, his son in college who was just slightly younger than his "companion."

Nowaki had listened dutifully and asked all the right questions, using the intervals to rest his throat and tired jaws. Decker had seemed very pleased by the attentiveness and interest and had given him a sizable bonus. It was not an uncommon pattern.

There was something about Nowaki that drew people to confide in him. Half the time, in fact, given the eventual confessional nature of so many of his dates, the handsome youth often felt more like a priest of sorts, rather than a prostitute.

Nowaki knew he had a natural inclination to want to make people comfortable. It pleased him too when he could give his clients a pleasurable experience and then leave them feeling relaxed and smiling. Over time he had concluded that these things might be part of what caused people to open up to him.

The larger truth was, however, people had always been drawn to him, especially people in some kind need, and from the time he was a small child, he'd spent his life trying to make others feel better. Nowaki had convinced himself that in this way, what he was doing now honestly wasn't too different.

_If Matsuo keeps giving me guys like Decker-san, maybe the next few years won't be so bad._

He had been escorting for two years now and consort-escorting for almost a year. So far he didn't think it had hardened him in the way some of Matsuo's men seemed to become. He supposed he should count himself lucky since he often found himself rather enjoying most of what he did.

Besides, where else would someone like him, a young man of no means and no family, with no more than a middle school education, have been to be able to make the kind of money he'd needed?

Nowaki pulled off the light sheet that had been covering him and let the cool air of the apartment prickle his flesh.

He found more and more he had to constantly reminded himself of this so he wouldn't resent the three-year contract Matsuo had tricked him into signing in exchange for his last loan. He also comforted himself with the reminder that, although it was taking him longer to pay down than he had originally thought it would, he seemed to be finally making some progress now.

Unlike many of Matsuo's other stabled studs, Nowaki was very careful with the money he earned and made sure his tastes and his lifestyle outside of work remained quiet and simple. If things kept going as they were, with no more unexpected "expenses," he'd eventually be done with escorting and with Matsuo.

Once his contract was over, he had originally thought he would have enough saved to start college if he wanted to. _But now…_

Nowaki sighed. His circumstances had shifted far more than he'd ever anticipated.

Even so, despite everything, he continued to believe if he worked hard enough he could get where he needed to go. Not that he had a clear direction of where that was exactly anymore.

Still he moved doggedly forward, getting ready to take the college proficiency/placement tests. He planned to take these as soon as he passed his high school equivalency exam. He was scheduled to this take in two weeks.

Nowaki knew he had to do something to prove to himself that his dreams were still viable, despite the twists in his fate. He trailed a lazy hand over his bare torso.

_Of course, if things get too bad before I get Matsuo paid off, there's always the option of becoming someone's exclusive consort and having them buy my contract out immediately._In his time working for the pimp, he had received more than a dozen offers of this sort, although his increased debt now made this option less likely.

However, Nowaki wanted to get himself free, not be dependent on any other. Being a kept man, more than he already was, held no appeal. He was determined to prove himself and make good on his own.

Rolling over on his side on the futon, Nowaki's mind continued to wander.

He might have thought differently of course, if he'd found himself in love with any of his prospective "sugar daddies." But, though it might seem odd to some, his personal code of honor, while it allowed him his one night dalliances and the more than occasional repeat customer, would not allow him to stay with someone long-term, however enticing the benefits, if he did not love that person.

And regarding love… so far and perhaps fortunately, this had eluded him.

It helped that he was purposefully cautious; he knew the danger of this potentiality as well its benefits. In the two years he'd been "escorting," he had watched more than one of Matsuo's other boys be destroyed by allowing their hearts to get in the way of their job.

After another sigh and a stretch Nowaki looked at his phone again.

Delivery and pick up by one of the company's drivers was mandatory for regular dates. It was part of how Matsuo watched over the safety of his human inventory as well as kept track of his boys' hours to ensure that no one was skimming their fees. A car was supposed to have picked Nowaki up at midnight. Matsuo, vigilante as he was then, would have known hours ago about the prolonged engagement.

Considering this, Nowaki might have hoped for understanding from his boss, but he didn't. He had come to know the man too well.

Before he left on last night's call he had been told Decker could be potentially a very valuable repeat and that he should feel honored that he was the one being entrusted to escort him. This having been said, he knew that Matsuo would be anxiously awaiting a full report (as was clearly indicated by the number of calls left so far).

As he reluctantly punched the auto-dial for his manager's number, Nowaki hoped that Matsuo's share of the extra fee and his tip from last night would be enough to pardon his lapse in punctuality.

Matsuo picked the phone up on the first ring and his greeting told Nowaki his hope had been foolish.

"Kusama, where the fuck have you been? I have been trying to reach you all morning! What did I tell you about turning your cell phone off? EVER!"

"Don't." Nowaki replied calmly.

"And your excuse for disregarding my order?" Matsuo's tone dared Nowaki to lie to him.

"I don't have one, Matsuo-san." Whatever it was he was doing to make his money, Nowaki had never been dishonest and he didn't plan on changing that any time soon.

"You know Decker-san extended.

"I left his hotel at five, came home, I was tired and I wanted to sleep. So, I turned off my phone and overslept," Nowaki admitted.

"Now I'm late. You're angry, Matsuo-san, and rightfully so. And I'm sorry. I can be there in an hour."

Nowaki's apology did not hold the timidity or groveling that Matsuo preferred, but it did hold the sound of honesty.

While there was much about this tall stud of his that left the pimp perplexed, at times Matsuo could not help but find himself admiring Kusama. He was also pleased that Nowaki had not lied to him about the phone, as about ninety-nine percent of his other whores would have done. This fact alone mollified him a bit.

"Did Decker tip you?"

"Yes, Matsuo-san. I was going to give you half to apologize for my lateness."

"I accept your apology. But you'll bring the full amount then, since I am charging half your tip to start for not showing up on time."

Nowaki silently cursed himself for not having anticipated this move.

"Did you make it to the salon yesterday for your cut and the waxing?" Matsuo's tone indicated that after confiscating Decker's entire tip he was now feeling soothed. He was a stickler on grooming and regularly scheduled maintenance for his boy's.

The pimp had a few hirsute chaps he kept on hand for the patrons who liked that sort of thing, in the same way he kept a few boys who were heavily pierced, but overall he wanted his stock smooth and adornment free. While Nowaki did not mind the regular haircuts, he did not particularly appreciate being subjected to the waxing process on a regular basis. However, he had come to accept it now as part of the job and was glad that he did not have more body hair.

"I did."

"You'll get to the gym today too? Despite your late start?"

"Yes," Nowaki promised. This too was part of his job now.

Matsuo had an arrangement with a small gym near one of his offices. His employees were required to sign in when they attended (and they were expected to go regularly) and the trainers there made sure that no one got lazy. If schedules weren't maintained or a trainer reported any slacking, an escort could find his percentages getting docked.

"And you picked up the new suit I had made for you too?"

"Yes, Matsuo-san." Nowaki replied, then he added, breaking his usual terseness, "But Matsuo-san, it looks really expensive." His voice revealed his concern.

Rising up off his bed, Nowaki stood and opened one of the blinds. He blinked as the midday sun attacked the shadows of his bedroom, driving them out. Once his eyes had adjusted he glanced over at the new charcoal gray suit suspended on its hanger from the top edge of the closet door.

"You need to stay current, Kusama. I can't have you hanging out with my clients looking like a ragamuffin," Matsuo chided. "And that last suit you bought yourself was a disaster."

"Yes, but how much is this one going to add to what I owe you?" The loss of his whole tip had reminded Nowaki how vigilante he needed to be of his pimp's tactics.

"Nothing, if you want," Matsuo offered slyly.

"What do you mean?" Nowaki's guard was really up now; nothing was free in the world he occupied.

"Usami Haruhiko offered to pay for the suit… _If_ he can see you in it tonight." Matsuo laughed.

"What!" Nowaki exclaimed more loudly than he meant to.

He felt his face becoming heated; he didn't want Matsuo to know how much this deal bothered him. He adjusted his voice and said much more calmly, "No, I told you I don't want to see him again. Why don't you send Yuki? Yuki likes him a lot and he's into Usami-san's tastes."

"Because Usami doesn't like Yuki, he likes you!" Now it was Matsuo who was getting hot.

"And I don't know what you're bitching about, Kusama. Having an Usami panting after you is quite the coup! If you were smart, you'd take advantage of the situation.

"Why not let him buy you a few things? It's not like he's asking you to marry him. He just wants a few hours of your time.

"Besides…," Matsuo purred, trying to entice his agitated stud, "He said he'd pay four times what he paid you before… That would help your account considerably."

"How do you figure?" Nowaki growled back, entirely unmoved by his manager's cajoling. _The last time I went with Usami I couldn't work for two weeks afterwards. Not until all the bruises had faded. That cost me a hell of a lot!_

Recalling that night now Nowaki was angry. "You told me when I signed that contract that I wouldn't have to go out with anyone I didn't want to and I'm telling you right now. Again! I don't want to go out with Usami-san."

"Yes, Kusama. I know he got a little out of hand the last time," Matsuo acknowledged. "But that's a risk of this line on occasion. Anyway, he promised this time he would behave. Not even anything sexual, just a date really."

Nowaki remained still, his cell clutched tightly in his hand. He moved over to the suit and fingered the rich fabric. He grimaced as he lifted the tag on the sleeve and saw the marked price. Even so he said nothing.

Matsuo finally conceded when the line remained interminably quiet. "Fine, I'll see if I can't get him to take Yuki!"

The pimp was amazed by Nowaki's stubbornness, but while Usami Haruhiko was a great client, Nowaki was also a great moneymaker.

Matsuo also knew the twisted blueblood was interested in cashing the kid out and he wasn't ready to see that happen yet, nor was he quite ready to smash his young stud's illusions about the reality of their arrangement.

"Despite how stupid I think you're being, I'll tell him you don't want to see him and I'll add the suit to your account."

Matsuo chuckled, "I don't know why I am so soft with you, Kusama. If you were anyone else I'd be driving you over to Usami's condo myself right now. However…

"You're going to do me a favor, in exchange for upsetting one of my highly-valued customers. I know you're supposed to have tomorrow off, but I've had a new client come in and you're going to take him."

Nowaki still said nothing.

"Look, it's just a straight escort. No sex this time, though the guy's willing to pay for the whole package regardless. And, it just _might_ be enough to cover your new suit."

"Right…" Nowaki didn't sound convinced.

"No, I'm serious," Matsuo assured. "And you sound perfect for what he wants."

"The client is some buttoned down college professor. He said he was looking for someone 'tall, reasonably good looking, and able to function well in a social situation without saying a bunch of moronic things that would embarrass him.' That's what he asked for specifically.

"Anyway, he needs someone to attend an event with him and pretend to be his boyfriend for the night."

Matsuo laughed again, it was not really a pleasant sound. "To be honest, the guy sounded so nervous, I doubt he'd even be able to get it up for a hand-job."

Nowaki was silent again. It had been ages since he'd had a night off, let alone a Friday evening and he'd really been looking forward to it.

"Enough with the attitude, Kusama; you're doing one of these jobs: the professor or Usami… Your choice."

_Some choice._

"I'll do Friday night, Matsuo-san."

"Of course you will… Now get your ass down here and I'll give you the details and then you can give me the details about how last night went.

"It must have gone well, because Decker already called and wants to book you again when he comes back to Tokyo for business again next month."

"I can be there in an hour," Nowaki repeated, his voice resigned. Remembering Usami and thinking about spending his one night off in weeks with some stodgy old professor made him want to crawl back into bed.

"You have thirty minutes, Kusama, to get your sweet ass here," Matsuo saw another call coming in on his line.

"And you better not make me wait again or I'm going to start charging you even more for wasting my time. Got it?"

All pretense of amiability was gone now from Matsuo's voice. Nowaki heard the hard edge in the tone and knew too well Matsuo wouldn't hesitate to make good on this threat.

"Yes, Boss."

Nowaki's blue eyes trailed over the surface of his new suit once more. He waited until Matsuo hung up and then exhaled a long breath. He drew in another, filling his lungs as deeply as possible, but somehow, even with his chest tight with air, he had a terrible sensation of drowning.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading and reviewing.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3: Reflections

**The Escort**

**Chapter Three: Reflections**

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><p>Hiroki stood looking at himself in his hallway mirror.<p>

It had been a little over three months since the night he'd asked Akihiko for his second "favor." Even so, the memory of that evening still felt fresh and Hiroki found his eyes grow watery at the sting of it.

_Stupid Ass, get a hold of yourself. You should feel delighted right now._ Hiroki silently berated his reflection as he adjusted his tie.

The head of his department had been beside himself when, a few days after Akihiko had agreed, Isaka Ryuichiro, the Vice President of Marukawa Publishing had called to discuss Akihiko's visit to the University. Hiroki had been lauded for managing to secure the unobtainable and his favor within the department had risen considerably. Any remaining residue from the unfortunate incident with Shinoda seemed to have evaporated as well.

After smoothing down his troublesome tie, Hiroki regarded himself in the mirror anew and a furrow instantly formed on his forehead. In his head he could hear Miyagi's teasing tones; his senior's voice warning him about wrinkles. Hiroki tried to smooth out his expression and found it far more stubborn than his tie.

Tonight was the big event and he was at least partly in charge of the evening. He was to introduce Akihiko and felt nervous as hell about it. As if the introduction wasn't anxiety producing enough, he'd had to go and complicate things further setting up the whole "escort" thing.

_Tonight is going to be a disaster. Serves you right though, Idiot. What the hell were you thinking, Kamijou, hiring an escort?_

This was something else that had been set in motion along with the lecture: the further development of his imaginary "boyfriend."

It had seemed to comfort Akihiko that someone was looking out for him, as every time the author called since, Akihiko inquired after his "fellow" and how the state of their union was. Akihiko's interest was both touching and further wounding and Hiroki found himself continuing the deception, though he worked diligently to keep his story simple and vague.

Hiroki knew he should have left off his lie months ago. But the night of "the favor," when Akihiko had stayed over, had brought up old ghosts for him in a new way, and he'd found he'd not been able to exorcise them. This was another reason he'd initially maintained the ruse, because it had served as a neat explanation for his physical avoidance of his best friend. He had also even used this, so far unnamed boyfriend, as a means of fighting off the increasing and annoying advances of his "not gay" senior professor.

Unfortunately, his fabricated relationship was turning out to follow the same pattern as most of his real relationships: it had started out feeling uncomfortable but also slightly satisfying and had now turned around and bitten him really hard in the ass.

As if to affirm this, Hiroki's phone suddenly chimed. He dipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell. A new and deeper crease formed on his forehead when he saw it was his mother.

_Again._

Annoyingly attentive to begin with, she had been pestering him almost incessantly lately it seemed. Hiroki ignored the call, turned his phone to vibrate, and stuck it back into his pocket. The last thing he needed (besides having to talk to his mother) was to have his cell ring in the middle of Akihiko's lecture with some wrong number.

_That would be my luck._

His imagined interruptive call would have normally been the lady Kamijou and not some mis-dial. Unfortunately, however, Hiroki's maternal unit had made the astounding declaration a few days prior that she was leaving her house to attend Akihiko's lecture.

Akihiko talked to the lady Kamijou far more often than her own son did and he had obviously recently gone and blabbed about her son's "serious" love interest. Hiroki thought it might have been a purposeful slip: Akihiko having a little fun at his expense, since the author was undoubtedly now feeling very uncomfortable about the public event he'd agreed to.

An invisible fist suddenly grabbed a hold of Hiroki's guts and gave a sharp twist.

Since she'd decided to go to see her lovely "Aki-kun's" lecture, the lady Kamijou now insisted that while on this rare trip away from the family estate, she be allowed to meet the man who, according, to her foster son, had been so "tenaciously" courting her Hiro-chan. Hiroki knew in all likelihood, meeting his imaginary interest was actually probably more the true reason for her outing. The lecture was just an excuse to size up his possible match.

The knot in Hiroki's stomach suddenly bloomed into something more. Hiroki made a mad dash to the bathroom. He had the presence of mind to flip his unruly tie over his shoulder before he ended up on his knees before the toilet. The remains of his last convenience store meal tumbled out of him and into the porcelain bowl.

Once he'd stopped retching Hiroki scooted back and allowed his flushed forehead to rest against the toilet's cool ceramic rim. He knew his mother meeting the escort was dangerous: while she seemed very simple in many things, Mama Kamijou was actually a very keen woman.

_I should have had the balls to go through with my last plan._

He had considered an imaginary break up prior to tonight's event. However, there was the distressing fact that both Akihiko and Miyagi had begun voicing the opinion that his hereto unseen boyfriend might not be real. Hiroki had realized late he'd allowed his charade to go on too long and he'd suddenly broken up with his beau, without Akihiko or Miyagi ever seeing him, it would have only served to confirm their suspicions.

This possibility or anyone finding out that there had never really been a mystery man was too humiliating for him to even consider.

After rising shakily and inspecting his shirt for spots, Hiroki moved over to the sink to wash his face and brush his teeth again.

He had been at a loss for how to gracefully extricate himself from this situation until the answer had been provided in the unlikeliest of forms: Akihiko's brother, Usami Haruhiko. Hiroki had run into the man while wandering the Tokyo Art Museum the previous weekend.

Watching the water run, the young professor's mind drifted back to that moment.

He'd gone to the museum to see a new ecphrastic calligraphy exhibition that had combined the brushed art form with some significant contemporary poets. Usami Haruhiko was lingering in front of one of the pieces with a very pretty and very bored looking blond when Hiroki had chanced upon him.

From their first meeting as children, seeing Haruhiko had always been awkward for Hiroki. Akihiko and his older brother had never gotten along, so by default, growing up as a loyal friend, he had of course taken Akihiko's side. Over time, however, his sense of unease about encountering Haruhiko had been exponentially compounded by a devastating twist.

Haruhiko had been Hiroki's "first" and not by choice.

Hiroki leaned over the sink suddenly feeling as though he might become ill again. His heartbeat had accelerated and his chest felt compressed. This happened most times when his mind drifted back to that terrible day.

Had it ended with that one instance, it would have been terrible but perhaps more easily navigated. This, however, had unfortunately not been the case.

When finally free of the elder Usami's attentions, Hiroki had done what he could to get past these "incidents." It was his private shame, something he'd never disclosed to anyone, especially not Akihiko. His dealings with Haruhiko had added a new and unfortunate layer to Hiroki's love for his friend.

It had been years since he'd encountered the older Usami, but Hiroki recognized him immediately and had turned and started walking away, but not before Haruhiko had seen him and called out.

In the relatively crowded exhibition hall, the Usami brother's greeting had been loud enough that a number of people had stopped to look. As much as it pierced him, Hiroki could not simply continue to walk away. He'd paused in his step, so it was obvious he'd heard the "halloo," and while he could bear being perceived as rude by a bunch of strangers, Hiroki could not allow Haruhiko to think he still held any power over him. Such a retreat would have surely conveyed this.

Their exchange had been short and casual, at least on Usami's part. Haruhiko had always been this way. The older brother acted then, exactly as he had when they were younger: as if nothing had ever happened between the two of them. Try as he might, however, as always, Hiroki had been unable to hide how much their interaction strained him.

Standing in his small bathroom now, safely away from Usami, Hiroki's hands clenched the edge of the vanity and he felt the tears that seemed to be always flowing so close the surface of him well up in his eyes.

_So fucking weak, Kamijou. Haruhiko knew that from the start. Why else would he have done what he did?_

Difficult as it was to release the grounding countertop, Hiroki dipped his hands under the running water and splashed his face.

_As if any amount of ablution could wash my shame away._

During their interaction, sensing Hiroki's distress, Haruhiko had moved in quickly to mock him. The older Usami had ended their short conversation by telling Hiroki that he thought it might help his nervousness to get laid. He'd then motioned towards the boy who was standing off to the side now, a few feet away, prettily pouting.

As he stepped off to reclaim his eye candy, Haruhiko had pressed a card from Matsuo's escort service into Hiroki's tremoring hand.

"Here, this might help you, Kamijou-kun," Haruhiko had purred. "Maybe this way, you'll finally get to be in charge. If that is what you really want." Haruhiko had then walked away laughing, taken his sullen boy's arm, and rather roughly pulled the youth off with him.

With the shock of the cold water on his skin, the wave of nausea that had gripped Hiroki passed. He imagined that had he begun retching again, there probably would have been little left to come up; his nerves about the evening had made it difficult to eat much that day. Feeling his heart begin to drop down to its usual pace, Hiroki opened his medicine cabinet to gather his toothbrush and paste. His dark eyes avoided looking at himself in the cabinet's mirrored door.

Hiroki didn't know why he hadn't thrown the card away the instant it had been given him. Instead he'd stuffed it, with his clenched fists, into his pants' pockets and had only come across it later while doing some laundry. He'd been pondering how to resolve the issue of dealing with his fictional crisis when he'd rediscovered the card. Turning it over and over in his hand, it had seemed at the time, almost as if the gods had suddenly provided him with the answer.

After brushing his teeth, Hiroki put his things away and shut the water off.

_And now here I am, in an even bigger fucking mess._

His "date" would be arriving any minute to accompany him to Akihiko's lecture and meet his mother and he hoped whoever they sent had a modicum of acting ability. Hiroki suddenly wondered if he should have added that to the list of what he was looking for.

_For as much as this "date" is costing me, I could have probably hired an award winning actor._ He prayed to his ancestors that he… they, would be able to carry this charade off.

Clouded eyes cleared as Hiroki pulled himself out of his internal reflections and back into present. He tried to stuff all his jumbled emotions away and finally risked a glance at himself in the mirror. He slipped his tie back down to his shirtfront and studied himself with a sense of mounting dissatisfaction.

His hair had always been unruly and today had been no different.

Hiroki knew he should have gotten a haircut, but with classes and grading, his own PHD research, and all the extra work he was doing for Miyagi, he'd hardly had time to sleep, let alone worry about such niceties. Besides, he had never been good with things like that anyway: he was much more comfortable in the ethereal worlds created by words than the physical one.

Dealing with his wild mane as it was, he hadn't been able decide what in the hell to do with it for the lecture. He'd tried slicking it down but that had been a disaster. Besides, as soon as he'd done that, he'd remembered the last time that Akihiko had seen his hair that way and had informed him the look did not become him.

Now after his recent bout of nerves his brunet tresses looked even more disheveled.

Hiroki pushed his unruly bangs up off his forehead and sighed. He felt, to his horror, new tears of frustration burn his eyes. No matter his hopes for a pleasant evening, he had a sudden terrible intuition.

_This whole thing is going to be a fucking fiasco..._ _Just like most of the things in my life._

As if in answer to his thoughts, a quiet knock sounded at his front door.

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><p><strong>Thank you for the alerts and favorites and my gratitude to all those notes from faithful readers happy to see this coming back and the new ones who have just chimed in.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4: First Sight

**The Escort**

**Chapter Four: First Sight**

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><p>Nowaki looked at the card in his hand and the number on the apartment door he was standing in front of. He thought for about the tenth time since the car had dropped him off that Matsuo must have made some kind of mistake.<p>

_What sort of academic would live in this part of the city?_

Nowaki had been expecting some genteel condo set or a refined older home encroached on by newer structures, but this? This was an area inhabited by low paid office workers and students, his own residence a little more than a mile away.

_Can someone living here even afford this kind of date?_

Despite knowing that Matsuo vetted his clients, the escort's bad feeling from the day before returned and was now rapidly increasing.

Nowaki imagined this to be the residence of some slovenly scholar, a potbellied old man. A crusty codger with a mustache bearing traces of breakfast crumbs and nicotine breath. He exhaled a deep sigh and looked at the card once more.

_I should have figured that Matsuo would do something like this to punish me for rejecting Usami Haruhiko._

Bracing himself, he knocked softly on the door.

_Maybe if I am quiet enough, this old guy won't hear me. Then I can call the service and tell them I've been stood up._

Nowaki would have no such luck though: a deep and rather growly voice called out that he'd be right there. It sounded annoyed.

When the door cautiously opened, Nowaki stepped back involuntarily and drew a sharp breath. He couldn't help it, not when he saw the figure looking out at him from behind the slightly opened door.

Once again, Nowaki thought there must have been some kind of mistake. For one, the man before him looked younger than he did, though with his tall height, people rarely guessed his age correctly, always attributing to him more years than he had.

_Maybe this is the professor's son?_

It was remotely possible. Nowaki had met a number of gay men who had fathered children, even a few whose offspring resided with them. And some people did not hide that they employed escorts. In fact, in one case, he had even been secured by a regular client to serve as a gift for his eighteen year-old, twin sons.

Regardless, whoever he was, Nowaki found himself immediately enchanted.

When they gathered, the other studs that he worked with often talked about preferences and types that they liked. Nowaki had always felt at a bit of a loss in these sorts of conversations as this was something he'd never really cultivated.

He'd left the Kusama orphanage, where he'd been raised from an infant, at the age of fourteen. At that time, the orphanage had been dealing with serious overcrowding issues, so he'd moved into an apartment with five other boys in similar straits.

He'd never had a relationship while at the orphanage. Once on his own, he worked so many jobs he'd had no time to pursue any sort of pairing then either. Besides, Nowaki had always had difficulty believing he was worthy of anyone, especially when he had nothing to offer really, beyond himself.

Then, at the age of sixteen, he'd saved a young woman eight years older than he from being mugged. Though Nowaki had acknowledged to himself he was inclined to like boys more, she had "rewarded" him for his heroism with his first relationship. Eager to create the family he'd never had, Nowaki had moved out of his home with the other boys and into hers. He'd lived with her for almost two years, until he'd signed his first contract with Matsuo.

As the parameters of his servitude became increasingly clear Nowaki had left the relationship out of his sense of fairness to the woman.

Outside of his desire for a "normal" home life, he had never felt really all that passionate about her anyway, mostly just responsible after saving her. So they'd parted rather amicably. They had even remained friends, at least until Nowaki found that she had been seeing another, more financially stable, older man towards the end of their time together and had primarily been keeping him around for his housekeeping skills.

Working for Matsuo, Nowaki had actively tried to avoid forming preferences since he found they only made it more difficult for him to do his job effectively. But here, standing before him like some revelation, the escort realized instantly that he had just discovered his type.

_He's beautiful._

The young man was on the taller side for most Japanese men, though he was still more than a full head shorter than he. His body, what Nowaki could see of it anyway, was broad shouldered, lithe-limbed, and trim-waisted. The long fingers gripping the door's edge looked as though they belonged to a musician.

The face staring back at him was angular, masculine, but with a certain refinement; the head topped by a rather unruly mop of shaggy, light-brown hair. It looked too as though the fellow had missed a few haircuts. Nowaki found himself mildly smiling at this thought. The youth's skin held what one might describe as an academic's pallor: it was slightly pale, but clear and looked remarkably smooth.

What struck Nowaki the most deeply, however, were the eyes. They were the most amazing red-brown color; they reminded him of raw earth and unfired terracotta clay and they burned with an amazing intensity despite the relatively cool gaze that held him. Nowaki noticed immediately that the lids that framed these magical orbs were tinged with the barest trace of red and he wondered if the youth had been in the grips of some particularly strong emotion before he'd come to the door.

Whether this speculation was valid or not, for some reason he felt himself suddenly wanting to comfort the man before him.

Nowaki bowed low and held out Matsuo's card with both hands.

"Please excuse me. I'm from 'Elite Escorts" and I'm here to see Kamijou Hiroki-sama."

When Nowaki straightened after the card was plucked from his hand, he looked up and found himself still fixed under a stern gaze. The amazing eyes were weighted with feeling: suspicion, apprehension, intelligence, and to Nowaki's surprise, a bit of displeasure. Usually, in his first encounter with people, their faces lit up with pleasure or desire and, though Nowaki was in no way vain, this unexpected reaction to him was a bit of a surprise.

The door did not open any further; instead Nowaki's beholder glanced down at the card. The fiery gaze eventually returned and slowly looked him up and down. Then the man just stared at Nowaki for a few moments, a slight scowl forming on fine features.

"Just how tall are you?" The deep resonance of the man's voice seemed in-congruent with the slender frame it emanated from. Before Nowaki could answer the growl continued.

"When I said tall, I didn't think they would send me a giant." An annoyed grunt punctuated this comment.

"Great! Now everyone is going to say, '_you said he was tall, but why didn't you tell me he was __really__ tall_?'" The door opened wider as this was uttered and the figure standing before Nowaki was finally fully revealed in the entry way.

_He's so… intense?... Yes, certainly but also... _Studying the uncomfortable annoyance, tightly wound posture, and the pink cheeks opposing the strong frown the correct designation finally came to Nowaki.

_He's really… cute._

Nowaki knew that the word should have been handsome or striking. He supposed he'd been reading too many shojou manga in his off hours. They were one of his few secret pleasures - as well as the occasional yaoi.

Nowaki shook his head slightly; the import of the other's words had just struck him and his heart leapt. He offered the man another polite bow and then asked after, almost hesitantly "Uh… Kamijou-sama?"

Hiroki returned the greeting, bending slightly also. He hesitated, almost as if he didn't want to admit who he was, before he finally nodded. He stepped back to make room in his small hallway for Nowaki to enter his flat.

"Come in for a moment. I have to call the car and that will take a bit. Besides…" Hiroki looked at the escort over once more. "I'm not quite ready yet."

Nowaki watched as his client took his phone from his pocket and quickly texted the car service.

"They didn't tell me your name." Hiroki flipped his phone closed. He scrutinized the tall man as Nowaki slipped out of his shoes in the entry way.

"Ah, so sorry… Kurosa Nowaki, but please call me Nowaki." The escort couldn't help but smile as he said this. His dreaded evening had just gotten immeasurably better. Nowaki couldn't believe he was going to get to spend the next several hours in the company of this magnificent creature.

"Kurosa..." Hiroki broke the name down in his mind and ended up with _Kuro_-"black" and _sa_-"help." It was a strange appellation, but then so was _Nowaki-_ "typhoon".

"Is that your real name?" Hiroki asked suspiciously and then blushed as he suddenly realized he sounded quite rude.

"Not that it matters, I suppose, as we are breaking up tonight anyway," he added quickly looking away. His question, however, did not seem to faze the escort in the least.

"Nowaki is my real name, Kusama is my true surname."

Nowaki knew that a lot of the young men he worked with used aliases and guarded their true names vigilantly, but as he had no real family to disgrace, he hadn't felt such a need to hide his identity. And for some reason too, he felt as though he wanted Kamijou-san to know his real name.

"Kusama Nowaki, eh?"

Nowaki decided he liked the way his name sounded in Kamijou-san's mouth. "Yes, Kamijou-sama."

Hiroki frowned. "Call me, Kamijou-san." He gave added stress to the "san", hoping Nowaki would take the hint.

"Of course, Kamijou-san." Though it didn't feel quite right Nowaki was pleased when his compliance with this shift in address caused his client's expression to just slightly soften. "And you may call me by my true name if you prefer."

Then Nowaki asked, "We're 'breaking up,' Kamijou-san?" He was puzzled, and surprised that the mention of those two words by Kamijou-san had immediately quickened his heart.

"Didn't they tell you at the service?" Hiroki felt the blush that had crept into his cheeks the moment he'd opened the door grow deeper. Nowaki saw Kamijou-san's color and his discomfort, and discovered it tickled him.

_Yes, "cute" is definitely the right word for Kamijou Hiroki-san._

Hiroki was mortified to have to relay all this information again, particularly to someone as incredibly attractive (and tall) as this Kusama. "I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend tonight and then at the event, _tastefully_ but publicly break up with me." A fresh coat of crimson painted Hiroki's cheeks.

"But why would I break up with you, Kamijou-san?" Though they'd only met minutes ago, already Nowaki found even the dissolution of their fictional relationship distressing.

Hiroki led Nowaki into his apartment's main room. "Because I'm impossible… Anyone will tell you that," he snorted. "Besides, look at you. They'll be wondering why you've stayed with me as long as you have."

Hiroki was terribly nervous now having this Kusama Nowaki in his home now and wished he picked a more public place to meet. Despite the chaos of his book-filled apartment however, the escort looked completely at ease. For some reason this disconcerted Hiroki even more.

In his agitation, Hiroki didn't really realize what he was saying, though he did recognize in this instant that he desperately needed to shut up and get out of the room before he did or said something even more self-effacing.

"Look, I tell you more about it in the car," Hiroki growled. He was trying to study this Kusama Nowaki without gawking and finding this incredibly difficult.

He had told the escort service that the evening's event was to be conducted as a casual/elegant affair and Nowaki seemed to effortlessly fulfill the requirements of both. The young man was wearing a pair of crisp black jeans that not only emphasized his long legs and slender waist, but also somehow tastefully alluded to a truly amazing ass. Nowaki had on a long sleeved white dress shirt, its brightness highlighting a robust skin tone. The shirt was opened slightly at the chest; broad shoulders filled the garment beautifully.

To Hiroki, his escort looked like a model. Even Kusama's slightly shaggy, raven hair seemed somehow stylish.

Nowaki had a gray sport coat draped over one arm and while Hiroki was no fashion expert, he had a good idea of how the man would look once it was donned: _fucking amazing_.

Observing this, the professor was suddenly convicted of two things. First, he needed to change into something a bit more fashion forward than his usual teaching attire. And second…

_There is no way in hell I am ever going to be able to pull this off._

Nowaki was scanning the room with casual interest. The apartment was actually remarkably clean despite all the layers of textual clutter.

"Are you really a professor?"

"Of course I am!" Hiroki snapped at the inquiry.

"I am an Assistant Professor of Japanese Literature at "M" University. I'm the youngest in the department. I will have my PHD in two years and hopefully be an Associate Professor in another four."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, Kamijou-san. It's just… you look so young."

Hiroki's brow furrowed in consternation. "I'm twenty-four." Nowaki's mistake was a common one that rather plagued him: until they knew him, the students he worked among often mistook him for one of their own.

Nowaki noted the ire in the voice and for some reason this amused him. He fought to restrain his smile. "So to be the youngest in your department you must be wonderfully talented."

Hiroki was rather shocked that his pique did not seem to bother Kusama in the least. It made him feel chagrined at his outburst.

"Look, I wasn't trying to sound self-important when I said what I did about my department." Hiroki rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"No, of course not, Kamijou-san." Nowaki had noticed each time he said his client's proper name it felt somehow awkward and this sensation perplexed him.

_I've never felt this with any of my other dates._

"Besides, I can already tell you are an amazing person, Kamijou-san."

Hiroki frowned. He wondered if part of the fee he had paid went for flattery. _If I'd known that, maybe I could have saved a few yen. I certainly don't need it._But something in the way the way Kusama had spoken made Hiroki want to believe the man was being honest.

Having offered his age, Hiroki now felt unbalanced, "Uh, so how old are you, Kusama-san?"

"Twenty," Nowaki offered as he moved over towards one of the bookcases and scanned the titles.

"And please, call me Nowaki."

"Twenty?" Hiroki breathed incredulously. "But you're so tall… Super! I've just discovered I'm dating a brat. A giant one at that."

"You can change my age if that makes you more comfortable, Kamijou-san." Nowaki looked over at Hiroki, his eyes lit with good humor at the huff in the professor's words.

When their gazes met, Hiroki felt a sudden unexpected heat fill his chest and overflow into other attendant parts. He suddenly realized that Nowaki's eyes were a brilliant cobalt blue

L_ike an Imari glaze_.

Another detail he was sure to be chastised for omitting.

Thankfully, Nowaki broke eye contact and turned back to the books. Hiroki almost called out for him not to touch them, but he soon realized that the escort had no intention of doing so. Nowaki merely peered respectfully into the cases.

"No, twenty is fine, I guess. No need for you to change it."

Nowaki said nothing but looked back again, offering Hiroki yet another new and amazing smile before nodding.

"Look… uh… Nowaki, I have a bit more to do to get ready. I'll be right back." Hiroki's tone was the gentlest it had been since he first opened the door.

As he left Nowaki standing in the middle of his library and headed down the hall to his bedroom, Hiroki had the sudden unnerving realization that while he had just met the attractive, seemingly mild escort, there was in fact absolutely nothing he desired to change about Kusama Nowaki at all.

* * *

><p>Nowaki moved around the room carefully while he waited. He moved from bookcase to bookcase, stepping over the stacked overflow on the floor.<p>

Last spring he'd been hired to accompany a CEO on a tour of monasteries. People frequently requested him for outings like these as his temperament was almost always cordial. This combined with his sensual skills made him a wonderful traveling companion. But what was more, Nowaki loved learning and was interested in everything and this engaged enjoyment fueled the pleasure of many of his clients.

The professor's front room reminded Nowaki of the cells of some of the scholar monks he had seen on that trip. The sudden image of Kamijou-san sitting alone on the floor at the low tea table, surrounded by his books, reading in the dim light of the evening, filled him with a sweet, melancholic ache.

Nowaki had soon scanned all of Hiroki's shelves. He'd learned one could tell a lot about a person by what he/she read. While there weren't any titles he recognized, he did notice that there was one author Kamijou-san had three copies of for each text. With the exception of one title of the author's titles that only had two.

The mystery of this was solved when Nowaki stepped back over and looked down at the low table. The third copy of that novel was open and lying face down on the tabletop.

_Ah, Kamijou-san is reading it._Against his better judgment, Nowaki picked the book up (being sure to keep the place) and looked at it.

His heart skipped a beat when he for the first time really noticed the name on the spine: Usami Akihiko. He turned over to the dust jacket wraparound where the author's picture was.

Usami Haruhiko had never said anything about having a brother in the time they'd spent together.

_But then it's not like Usami wanted a conversation either, _Nowaki reminded himself. However, though their coloring was vastly different, Nowaki thought he could see some clear similarities in their features.

"Hey." A growled voice broke Nowaki from his reverie. He looked up.

Hiroki had just stepped out of the bedroom in his new attire and Nowaki found himself feeling immensely pleased with transformation: the cute bookish scholar had disappeared and an even cuter hip academic had taken his place.

Hiroki was wearing a pair of tan jeans that accented his lithe physique. A chocolate brown "V" neck cashmere sweater had replaced the stiff, long-sleeved dress shirt and tight tie. The sweater peeked out from underneath a tweed sport coat that married its dark color to that of the slacks.

Unfortunately, despite his overall improved look, the professor did not appear at all pleased.

"So sorry, Kamijou-san." Nowaki carefully put the book down, just as he'd found it.

"I didn't mean to disturb anything. I just noticed that you have three copies of each of this author's books. You must really like his work."

Hiroki looked down at the novel.

After months of skillfully evading him, Akihiko had stopped by yesterday at his flat and caught him. His friend had invited Hiroki to accompany him, Takahiro, and a few others to a late dinner after the lecture. To make matters worse, Akihiko had already extended the invitation to Hiroki's mother as well. The author had asked with a light smirk, if Hiroki's mystery beau would join them too. Hiroki had responded with a non-committal "I'll think about it." Only to be teasingly chided about his anti-social inclinations.

Since Hiroki had finished his Thursday classes and only had one afternoon seminar class on Friday, as soon as Akihiko had left him he'd started drinking... Heavily. He had picked the novel up in a fit of drunken self-pity and read halfway through it, weeping all the while like some stupid schoolgirl.

"The author is a childhood friend," Hiroki supplied with practiced indifference. "I edit his work for him occasionally too. He is the man I'll be introducing and who will be giving the lecture we're attending this evening."

In his line of work, Nowaki had become quite adept at reading people. _Kamijou-san's eyes do not match his tone._He imagined there was something deeper there that his client was not disclosing.

_Was this "friend" the cause of Kamijou-san's appearance when he first opened his door to me?_Nowaki had noticed the pages where the book was open were slightly warped, as though they had gotten wet somehow. He did not voice his question however, as it wasn't his place. He was supposed to make Kamijou-san smile, not do anything that might stir unhappiness.

Instead he asked with a slight note of trepidation in his voice, "I don't suppose the author is any relation, by chance, to Usami Haruhiko?"

Hiroki looked up sharply at the name.

"H... Haruhiko is… Akihiko's older brother." Hiroki felt himself blush as he stumbled over the older Usami's name. He wondered how in the hell Nowaki knew him.

_Of course… Haruhiko is the one who gave me the card for the escort service._Hiroki felt stupid once more.

His blush suddenly deepened when it dawned on him too that perhaps Nowaki had "escorted" Haruhiko as well in the past. He looked at the seemingly gentle man standing before him and found himself hoping that, if such was the case, Nowaki's experience with Usami Haruhiko had been far better than his own.

"You don't suppose Usami Haruhiko-san will be attending the lecture as well?"

Hiroki met Nowaki's gaze and was moved by the concern he saw in the dark-blue eyes. Then he suddenly thought he understood why Nowaki might ask: their little charade would no doubt be quickly and painfully be revealed if the elder Usami chanced to attend. Hiroki forced a light laugh that in no way matched the unease that he felt.

"There's no way that Haruhiko will be there. The Usami brothers… Well, … they're not close," he said carefully. He wished he could feel as relieved as Nowaki looked in that instant.

Just then Hiroki's phone started to vibrate. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. Glancing at the display screen, he muttered, "The car is here, we should go."

As they were slipping into their shoes, Nowaki studied Hiroki. He was amazed by the zeal with which the man seemed to attend to everything, even this mundane act. Nowaki couldn't help but wonder if such passion extended to the bedroom as well and was surprised to find himself slightly blush at the thought.

_When has that ever happened before?_ For the life of him, Nowaki couldn't recall.

"Kamijou-san, how long have we been going out?"

"What?" Hiroki was searching through his briefcase now for his introductory notes, "Oh… ummm, about three and half or four months, I suppose."

"Which is it?"

"Eh? I don't know… Does it really matter?" Hiroki growled amidst the rustling of papers.

Nowaki sounded incredulous, "Don't you think you should remember the exact day you meet someone notable?"

"I guess…" Hiroki was distracted in his search; he'd never been particularly good at multi-tasking. "Look, it doesn't really matter to me... you decide."

"Okay, four months." Nowaki declared. He liked the solidity of wholes better than the less-reliable halves.

After a momentary pause Nowaki asked another question, his voice carried a note of concern. "Kamijou-san, how should I address you then?"

"What are you talking about, Nowaki?" Hiroki knew his notes had to be somewhere in his case.

"Well, if we have been together, and I am supposing 'intimate' for almost a third of a year, to call you Kamijou-san seems a bit formal." Nowaki hesitated. "May I call you Hiroki?"

Hiroki's head shot up and he regarded the escort with a fierce frown.

"NO!"

Nowaki was surprised that even within their false intimacy he felt rather hurt by this sharp rejection.

"Think of some other way to address me," Hiroki muttered. He was getting increasingly panicked that he couldn't find his notes.

"Okay... Um... 'Hiroki-san' still seems formal," Nowaki felt compelled to call his client something more intimate... something to show his closeness to the (cute) man before him. "Hm... how about 'Hiro... –san... Hiro-san."

As he said it, after the uncomfortable four syllables of the previous names, this name felt very correct in Nowaki's mouth.

"Urrggh, a nickname? No."

"But it's just for one night, Hi-ro-san…" Nowaki tried it out again. In his mind it fit perfectly.

Just then, as though Nowaki's invocation of the nickname conjured them, Hiroki's notes suddenly appeared in a section he'd already been through twice.

"Well... Okay… Since it's just for tonight," Hiroki reluctantly agreed. Nowaki beamed at this small victory in their fabricated fellowship as he followed Hiroki out of the apartment.

"Hiro-san…" Nowaki uttered the name again; the cadence of it delighted him.

Without looking at Nowaki, as he was locking the door, Hiroki could already tell by the way the escort said his name that the appellation would soon be followed by another inquiry.

"Nowaki, can you hold on to your questions please, until we get to the car?" Hiroki straightened, picked up his briefcase again and began walking towards the elevator.

"Sure, Hiro-san," Nowaki said, a sudden glow upon his face as he fell evenly in step alongside Hiroki.

* * *

><p><strong>Woof, two chapters done today. I sometimes think this revision stuff is harder than the original writing, but there's something therapeutic in the process, it feels to me. Anyway, hope you enjoyed these.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5: The Ride

**The Escort**

**Chapter Five: The Ride  
><strong>

* * *

><p>When the car pulled around, Nowaki waved to the driver that there was no need to get out. He opened the door himself and waited there looking at Hiroki expectantly. Hiroki stood a moment allowing Nowaki to enter the car. When he realized the escort was holding the door for him he frowned and gave a rather indignant grunt.<p>

Without saying a word, Hiroki walked around to the other side of the car, opened the door for himself and slid in. For many such a brush off would leave them feeling irritated or rejected, but Nowaki was not most people. Instead of being put off, he just smiled and climbed in.

_So cute._

"Hiro-san" had intrigued him and so, as with most things that garnered his interest, Nowaki now made it his mission to learn as much about his new favorite subject as possible. He was a very apt pupil. As the car pulled out, the escort could not help but find his gaze drawn back to the man sitting next to him.

Hiroki was studiously looking out the car window, resting his arm on its ledge. His long fingers tapped nervously. This same hand left the edge a moment later to run through his unruly, dark locks.

Nowaki noticed the late afternoon sun through the car window. It hit Hiroki's hair in just such a way that the escort could now see subtle red highlights that hadn't been visible in the dimmer light of the apartment.

_Hiro-san's hair is striped like a fine-grained wood,_ Nowaki decided, rich in its subtle variations. He found himself unexpectedly wishing that the hand tangled in the thick, striated mane was his.

Hiroki glanced over and noticed that Nowaki was watching him with a smile on his face. It made him self-conscious. He figured that the smile must be a blind of sorts, to hide the escort's true feelings.

_A guy that looks as put together as Nowaki must be disappointed to find out he has to spend his evening with someone like me. Hopefully it helps that he's getting paid really well to do this. _

As awful as being with him and going to a stuffy academic event might be, Hiroki found himself wondering too, if maybe Nowaki might not find it a relief to have a night off from fucking and sucking.

_Or whatever else it is he does with his customer's regularly._ At this thought, Hiroki's mind was filled with a sudden vision of Nowaki's sweat-slick torso, rocking above him. He could feel the blood rush to his cheeks as well as another part of his anatomy at the image.

_I wonder what it would be like, to be fucked by him?… _With a quick shake of his head, Hiroki ordered himself to cease such sordid speculation immediately.

_The point of this evening, Kamijou, is to increase your standing in the department, extricate yourself from the mess you've created with this damnable fiction, and get back to your quiet, miserable life_. _It is __**not**__ to get drawn into unreasonable fantasies about attractive, illicit male escorts._

Hiroki looked up from his thoughts and saw Nowaki continuing to gaze at him, still with a soft smile on his lips.

"You know, you don't have to be so polite."

"I'm not sure what you mean, Hiro-san?" Nowaki sounded mildly perplexed.

"You might want to save some of your smiles for the event, is all I'm saying," Hiroki clarified.

Nowaki's beautiful smile only broadened at this comment. "Hiro-san, smiles are not something I have ever suffered a shortage of, so I think I should be fine."

This response flummoxed Hiroki, as did Nowaki in general. The professor had really been expecting someone much more slick and callous. Someone whose nature was far more akin to the type of asshole he usually picked up or let fuck him. He had found choosing men of this sort made it so much easier him: it was far less complex when he knew the other person would likely hurt him or simply be indifferent. Such knowledge did not foster any delusions of love and made the connection so much easier to walk away from.

That had been part of the trouble with Shinoda: the guy had actually liked him a bit.

_But this Nowaki… _Besides the obvious facts that he was tall and good looking, although Hiroki knew virtually nothing of his escort, still, somehow Nowaki seemed genuinely…

_Nice._

Nowaki had been silently waiting see what Hiro-san would say next and was surprised by the man's silence. Most his clients were businessmen, men of the world, used to boardrooms and ballrooms. They expected easy chatter and casual conversation.

There were men on occasion who were quiet. These possessed a particular kind of silence, one that indicated that they only needed their escort for one purpose and couldn't be bothered with niceties. Those situations were always less pleasant and despite all his internal reconciliations, Nowaki always found himself lingering just a bit longer in the shower after interacting with men like that.

But this wasn't Hiro-san's silence.

Looking at the professor, Nowaki could almost hear him thinking. He wondered if the man found it difficult to speak when his mind was moving so quickly. Nowaki imagined, at times, trying to find words for Hiro-san must be like grasping at fallen leaves, floating on the surface of a fast moving stream.

He could also tell that his client was quite nervous. He wondered if he could pull Hiro-san out of his head and if that might not make his date feel easier.

"So, Hiro-san..." Nowaki started. "In the apartment you told me you would outline the details for our evening once we were in the car. Would you like to tell me now?"

"Not much to tell... You're my fictional boyfriend of… what did you decide?" Hiroki left off his musings and glanced at Nowaki.

"Four months," Nowaki offered.

"Yeah, four months." Hiroki looked down at the floor in front of him, his cheeks slightly pinking.

"And how did we meet?"

"What?" Hiroki seemed confused by the question. Nowaki smiled and turned his body towards a bit more towards him.

"How did we meet? I mean, I think I should probably know this."

When Nowaki saw that Hiroki still didn't seem to understand he said, "Suppose that someone might ask that or say something about it?"

Hiroki's brow furrowed. He had tried to be as vague as possible about his mystery beau.

"I don't know that I ever told anyone anything about that…" Hiroki paused and thought. "Let's just say I met you in the library. I mean, that seems plausible at least."

"The library?" Nowaki sounded disappointed. "Hiro-san, for a professor of literature with all of the books you have read, couldn't you come up with something more romantic than that?"

Dark eyes widened at the plaintive tone in Nowaki's voice."Like what?" Hiroki growled.

_Why in the hell do we need to be romantic in how we met? Especially since we're just going to break up in a few hours_. In his mind, romance just complicated things and got too many messy feelings involved, even if they were fictional.

"Hmmm. I don't know..." Nowaki's handsome face became pensive, then it lit up. "Maybe we met at the park or someplace like that. Perhaps I was with some friends." The escort thought a bit more and found this scenario agreed with him.

"Yes, we were playing a game and the ball we were using almost hit you." Nowaki suddenly shook his dark head. "No… A ball is too common."

Hiroki watched his companion with a rather disapproving expression on his face, although internally, seeing his date fabricate their meeting was actually rather amusing. Nowaki seemed to be taking this bit of their fiction so seriously.

Blue eyes sparked a moment later. "Oh, I know…You almost got hit by one of those manually launched rockets…" Nowaki beamed. "I have a client that likes those; he always wanted to be an astronaut."

Hiroki's blush grew a bit darker, but otherwise he hid his sudden discomfort at the mention of another client.

"Anyway…" Nowaki continued; his expression had gone dreamy. "So, you were sitting on a park bench. Maybe you had just had your heart broken. I don't know… but the rocket almost hit you and when I came to retrieve it, I saw you sitting there." The memory of Hiro-san's red rimmed eyes tugged at Nowaki's heart.

"And you just looked so sad I couldn't leave you alone."

Hiroki looked at the handsome youth next to him like Nowaki had suddenly sprouted a tail. "That's a ridiculous set up," he snorted. "Who'd believe that? First off, I would never be caught moping about in public like that!"

"Second, it sounds like the plot for some silly yaoi manga. Broken heart… heh, heh." Hiroki meant for his laugh to sound callous but instead it came off as merely uncomfortable.

Nowaki's looked a bit hurt by the dismissal of his story (not to mention the manga). "Love is ridiculous sometimes, Hiro-san." The barest trace of sadness outlined his words.

Hiroki was disconcerted, first because he'd obviously wounded the youth and second because Nowaki sounded so sincere. _Who would have thought an escort would have such sappy inclinations or be so sensitive_?

The professor covered his disquiet by adopting an attitude of irritation.

"Besides... Why do I have to be the sad one? Do I look like an unhappy person to you, Nowaki?" Hiroki challenged, but then he quickly shifted gears. "Gah... Wait… don't answer that!"

But it was too late. Nowaki hadn't said anything, but it was obvious from the look he'd given him did find him to be sad. Whether this designation was melancholic or pathetic, Hiroki really didn't want to know.

"No," he grumbled. "I have told everyone you're a student, so the library would be easier."

"I'm a student?" Nowaki breathed and suddenly sat up a bit straighter. His previously pained look was replaced by one of pleasure.

The enthusiasm his suggestion generated surprised Hiroki.

"Ummm… yes."

"And what am I studying, Hiro-san," Nowaki inquired excitedly.

"Well…" Hiroki felt rather stupid for having earlier told Akihiko his "boyfriend's" major. He was now damning his tendency to be so easily influenced by whatever he had been currently reading. "You want to be… a, uh… doctor. So, primarily science."

"I'm a medical student?"

"Will that be a problem?"

"No!"

Nowaki was immensely pleased that as Hiro-san's fake boyfriend he had such lofty aspirations. Besides, it was startlingly in line with things he had dreamed about doing since he was small.

It was uncommon for Nowaki to offer anyone, especially his clients, any true glimpse of his life. He cleared his throat and said rather shyly, "I actually have always had an interest in that area, Hiro-san. And I _do_ spend a lot of time at the library reading science books and medical journals when I'm not working."

"Oh?" Hiroki was both startled and pleased to find that Nowaki read.

_Unless this is some sort of fabrication…_ But looking at the escort, he didn't think so. In fact, oddly, Nowaki struck Hiroki as one of the most sincere people he had met in quite a while.

Nowaki looked at Hiroki with a new expression of earnestness. "I am getting ready to take my high school equivalency test. I hope to start taking some college classes soon." The escort paused and then rushed forward.

"Hiro-san, I have the tests in just a few weeks. I don't suppose you would be willing to offer some advice or maybe even tutor me?"

"What? No!… What a crazy question!" Hiroki exclaimed, although he had to admit that a secret part of him maybe wouldn't mind seeing the handsome youth again. He shook his wild head trying to dislodge the unnerving realization.

"I have way too much to do already… All the work I am doing for my senior, Professor Miyagi, and my own courses, plus my thesis…" No, there was no way he had time for something as pointless and surely once again heart breaking as that.

Hiroki worried that his rejection might upset his date, and he was surprised and perhaps just the slightest bit disappointed when it didn't. Instead, Nowaki's face took on a glow of admiration.

"Wow, Hiro-san! You are an amazing person to be doing all of that," Nowaki smiled. This response actually caused Hiroki more unease than if he had gotten upset.

"N-no, I'm not," Hiroki sputtered. "And I didn't mean it like that!"

"Like what?"

Looking at Nowaki, Hiroki wondered if he'd ever seen anyone with eyes that particular shade of blue. _His eyes are like a poem. _The professor shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts.

"Like bragging!" His voice sounded rougher than he'd meant it to.

"Oh, I don't think you're bragging, Hiro-san." Nowaki pulled out a new smile. "I believe that you are amazing."

_I've never seen anyone so with so many different smiles. _The truth in Nowaki's voice made Hiroki extremely uncomfortable.

"Urgh… you sound like my mother." The professor winced at the thought. "Which reminds me..." Hiroki's voice had a suddenly, slightly frantic edge, "She will be there tonight. So I need you to try and stay away from her as much as possible.

"And if she tries to talk to you, be rude…" Then Hiroki quickly amended, "Not too rude though, because she is my mother… but enough so that she won't be upset when we break up."

Nowaki's eyes widened and he sighed happily. "I can't believe I get to meet your mother, Hiro-san. "Erm... She won't be bothered that I am a guy?"

Actually, the lady Kamijou had embraced her son's alternative lifestyle far more than Hiroki thought was proper. Hiroki exhaled a long breath. His mother had guessed he was gay long before he'd known how to label himself. She'd come to terms with his sexuality with little difficulty, unlike his father…

"No…" _Unfortunately, quite the contrary._ Hiroki scowled at Nowaki. "Like I said, avoid her as much as possible though."

_Otherwise she'll have us ticketed and off on a plane, registered at Bloomingdale's, with a justice of the peace waiting to marry us the minute we land in New York._

"How lovely… And how supportive... I mean of both things, but that she's coming to see your introduction..."

Hiroki stared at Nowaki incredulously; he'd never met anyone who seemed so easily pleased.

"Yeah, well," he growled, "she's not coming to see my intro; she's coming to see the great Lord Usami."

"What?" Nowaki was a bit confused both by what Hiroki was saying and the distinct tone of bitterness in his voice.

"Well, I told you… he's a childhood friend," Hiroki reminded Nowaki. Then he added, "He spent more time with my family than his own and my mother is very fond of him."

I_ think there are times she'd rather he were her son. _

"Will your father be there too?" Nowaki asked hesitantly.

"My father doesn't recognize me," Hiroki's face and his voice were suddenly devoid of any expression.

"Oh," Nowaki wasn't sure how to respond to this. It didn't seem appropriate to ask why.

"He doesn't feel the same way about my lifestyle as my mother does." Hiroki offered this in the same expressionless tone.

"I'm sorry, Hiro-san." Nowaki's voice was sincere.

"I'm not," Hiroki looked away and out the car window. His hand wove itself through his hair once more. "His distaste for my 'weakness of character' has allowed me to pursue my interest in literature. Otherwise, I would be working for the family company."

Observing Hiro-san, Nowaki didn't believe that it was really as easy as that, but he said nothing. Turning back, Hiroki's dark eyes met his.

"And what about you?"

"What about me, Hiro-san?"

"Your parents…" Hiroki realized it was invasive but he felt compelled to ask anyway. "Do they know about how you are? Or what you do?"

"Oh." Nowaki looked away from Hiroki for the first time since they'd gotten in the car.

"I don't have parents, Hiro-san."

"What do you mean you don't have parents?" Hiroki was annoyed by this answer.

After he'd just disclosed so much of his own personal information, he was not about to accept so glib a reply. "Everyone has parents, Nowaki. You didn't just spontaneously generate."

"Oh, no... Of course I had biological parents, Hiro-san." Nowaki looked back, but his warm eyes were tinted with a different sort of blue now and his smile, for the first time, looked slightly stiff.

"But I never knew them. I'm an orphan. I was dropped off at the Kusama orphanage when I was a few days old and lived there until I was fourteen."

_Great, Kamijou! Your verbal tact and social savvy shine again_. Hiroki felt just terrible for bringing this information up in such an insensitive way.

"Look, I'm sorry, Nowaki," he offered sincerely, though it hurt his pride to do so. "Your fake boyfriend is an ass." Hiroki sighed.

"I honestly didn't mean anything by it."

"Ah, Hiro-san, it's okay." Nowaki could tell Hiro-san was really distressed and he wanted to alleviate this. "I'm used to it now," he said gently.

"Is that when you started doing this? When you left at fourteen?" Hiroki experienced a sudden terrible pain in his heart thinking about what could have led Nowaki to his current occupation.

"What? You mean escorting?" Nowaki, chuckled. "Oh, no, Hiro-san. I didn't start doing this until I was eighteen."

_Eighteen is still so young_, Hiroki thought, _and Nowaki says it so casually_. He suddenly felt convicted for some reason that he couldn't even put a name on.

"Look Nowaki…" All at once, it hurt Hiroki to look at his companion. "I, uhh… I think I need to spend some time reviewing my notes."

"And what about tonight, Hiro-san? Aren't there other details we should discuss? I mean, I want my performance to make you happy," Nowaki was concerned by the sudden shift in Hiro-san's mood.

_I could use a little happiness_, Hiroki thought sadly. _But maybe not as much as you, I fear._

Hiroki diverted himself from his melancholic musings by starting to rummage through his bag, searching for his elusive notes again. "Look, Nowaki… Just try not to say anything you don't have to; watch out for my mom and Akihiko. Oh, and my supervisor, Miyagi." Hiroki offered this admonishment as he sifted through his papers. "I'll point them out to you when we get there. _And_ I'll tell you when we're supposed to break up. Okay?"

"I'll give you a signal like this." Looking up, the auburn-haired academic pulled on his earlobe like he was scratching it. Then he glanced back down and pulled out his evasive notes, at last.

Hiroki leaned back in his seat and shuffled his papers. As he was taking his reading glasses out of his pocket he added, "And make up whatever you need to… but just not that stupid story about the park bench and the rocket. Okay?"

"Hiro-san, may I ask you one more question?" Nowaki studied his client intently.

"Okay," Hiroki answered cautiously, peering up over his papers at the blue-eyed wonder sitting before him.

"This seems like a very costly and elaborate ruse. I mean, why go to all this trouble?"

Hiroki offered Nowaki a sad and bitter smile. He plucked a single leaf from the torrent of his thoughts.

"Pride," he said simply and then dropped his uncomfortable eyes back down at his notes.

Knowing a bit about "pride" himself, Nowaki nodded. Not that Hiro-san would have seen it: the professor was already lost in his preparation. The escort sighed and settled back into the seat.

They spent the rest of their ride in silence.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you so much for the reviews and the alerts and favorites! I hope to try and respond privately to my reviewers in the next day or so. <strong>

**A quick question to you readers and re-readers out there... Do you have an interest in seeing my old AN's re-posted as well? Or do you like a cleaner format with minimal author commentary?**

**See you next chapter.**


	6. Chapter 6: Introductions

**The Escort **

**Chapter Six: Introductions  
><strong>

* * *

><p>As the car pulled up to the University, Hiroki put his notes in his bag and looked over at Nowaki.<p>

He was pleased to see that he had obviously made his point earlier: Nowaki waited patiently for the driver to come and let them both out this time. Even if the escort was supposed to be his "boyfriend" that didn't mean that he wanted Nowaki holding doors open for him as though he was a girl.

Side by side they started towards the lecture hall, Nowaki keeping pace but allowing Hiroki to lead them.

Nowaki hadn't ever been on the campus before and was looking at everything with the wonder of new eyes. He asked about the buildings and their histories, about artworks they passed on the grounds, about programs and departments. Hiroki soon found himself embarrassed with how little he knew about the place he currently spent the majority of his waking life. He finally stopped the questions by telling Nowaki that if he wanted to know all this stuff he should come back later and sign up for a guided campus tour.

When they reached the lecture hall, Hiroki was relieved to find that all was going well with the setup. He had arranged to arrive early so that he could ensure this, even though it was the head of the department who was now overseeing the event. What Hiroki was not pleased about, however, was the fact that he was not the only one who arrived ahead of time. He and Nowaki had not been in the hall for five minutes when a lilting voice called out to him.

"Hiroki!"

_Oh, shit._ Hiroki turned to Nowaki. "It's my mother. Remember, rude but not _too _and please say as little as possible."

Nowaki raised his brows in bemusement but answered agreeably, "Of course, Hiro-san."

"Hiroki," the lady Kamijou greeted brightly. She walked over and took her son's hand; Hiroki stiffened visibly the instant she touched him.

"Mother…" Hiroki growled, pulling his hand away when his mother didn't instantly relinquish her grasp. His response to her attempted affection immediately caused her glow to dim.

"Well, Hiroki, maybe if you deigned to visit me more, I wouldn't be so enticed to hold on to you when I see you."

"I don't imagine that the President would be very pleased if I dropped in," Hiroki muttered as he adjusted his coat.

"Pish, your father is rarely home. All you would need to do is ring me first to find out whether he's in or not," the lady Kamijou retorted. "Oh, that's right; that would mean you might actually have to call your mother."

Hiroki knew no matter what he said at this point that he simply was not going to win so he opted to say nothing.

Since her son had dropped the gauntlet by rebuffing her greeting, lady Kamijou was disappointed that he now chose not to challenge her further. So, she decided to employ a new strategy. Surveying Hiroki carefully, she had half expected her son to show up in the same clothes he taught in, but he looked far more polished than usual. Rather than say this however, she forwarded instead:

"You look thin, Hiroki-chan. Are you eating enough?

"Isn't that new boyfriend of yours taking care of you? Where is he by the way? You did say you were bringing him, did you not?"

Hiroki ground his teeth at the childish "chan;" he rolled his eyes and motioned to Nowaki. Nowaki had been standing off to the side, quietly observing mother and son. As an orphan, family dynamics fascinated him and he'd watched the exchange with something bordering on delight.

"Mother this is Kusama Nowaki."

"You said he was tall, but why didn't you tell me he was really tall? And where did he get those blue eyes? Why didn't you mention that either? Is he fully Japanese?" The lady fired off these questions regarding Nowaki suspiciously, all the while addressing her son as if the other wasn't standing right there beside them.

Hiroki chose, once again, not to answer; he was following his own advice and trying to say as little as possible. In response to his stubborn silence, his mother at last acknowledged Nowaki.

"I can't remember ever even meeting one of Hiroki's boyfriends before outside of Akihiko. You'd think my son was ashamed of me, the way he keeps his companions from me.

"So, you are the man Akihiko-kun told me has been so 'tenaciously pursuing' my son?"

"Mother!" Hiroki's cheeks burned bright. He exhaled his next sentence, the words sharp in his tension and low in tone. "Akihiko and I were never involved in that way."

His mother sniffed at him with disbelief.

"Tenaciously?" Nowaki repeated, surprised.

The escort recovered quickly, however, and offered Hiroki's mother a polite bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Kamijou-san." As Kamijou-san continued to fix him with her appraising gaze, he added, "Hiro-san is lucky to have a mother who is so observant.

"You are entirely right you know; he is getting too thin. I told him so just the other day. But I can hardly get Hiro-san to take his nose out of his books long enough to get him to eat."

Hiroki looked at Nowaki with an expression of shock and a brighter blush flowered on his cheeks. Though he didn't say anything, his brow furrowed mightily. His escort had not even spent two minutes with his mother and Nowaki was already breaking the rules.

"Hiro-san?" Hiroki's mother looked at her formally minded son. If Hiroki was allowing the man standing next to him to address him by a nickname… that sort toleration was, in her mind, indeed a very good sign.

Secretly she was also pleased that the "boyfriend" had agreed with her assertion about her son's weight. She wondered if this Kusama-san might not actually serve her well as an ally. At this thought the lady Kamijou broke into a wonderful smile.

"I know, Kusama-san; Hiroki-chan was the same way as a child, always reading something. And driving himself far too hard… So difficult…

"Honestly I am amazed that you have been able to endure him for… How long have you known my son?"

"Four months, Kamijou-san," Nowaki supplied cheerfully.

"Hmmmm, so long? I thought Akihiko-Kun had said something more like three," Kamijou-san frowned her son. Hiroki grimaced, Nowaki smiled.

"Well, I don't know about Usami-san's timetable, but I count back to the moment I began my…uh… 'tenacious pursuit.' I'm sure you know your son is not always easily persuaded."

The lady Kamijou, looked at Hiroki and snorted: she did indeed know. "And what is it you do again, Kusama–san?"

"Ah… I am student, but I work as well."

Hiroki cringed as he saw the head of his department approaching from across the hall. Hiroki imagined the man was concerned that Akihiko was not here yet, but he knew that his friend was chronically late for most everything and didn't expect Akihiko to show up until just before the lecture was scheduled to start.

In fact, though he had agreed to it earlier, if Akihiko was true to his usual form, when he did finally appear most likely Aikawa-san would have him reluctantly in tow.

Hiroki wanted desperately to go meet his supervisor and intercept him before he joined him, his mother, and his fake lover, but he was also uneasy to leave the unfolding conversation unattended.

"And what are you studying, Kusama-san?"

"Medicine."

"That's quite an arduous track," Kamijou-san's brow rose. She was pleased that her son had attracted someone ambitious. Though she hardly expected less from one as driven as her Hiroki was.

"Ah, Kamijou-san, you will find I am someone who is committed to attaining whatever goal I set for myself."

Hiroki's entire face was now crimson: Nowaki had looked at him purposefully as he said this and the implied significance of this look was not lost on his sharp-eyed mother.

"Please excuse me, I have to go greet my department head." Hiroki was now more than willing to leave the conversation.

"Fine," Kamijou-san smiled at her son, though her eyes narrowed. "Leave your mother unattended; it's not as if I hardly ever see you."

"Mother, this evening is important for me professionally." Hiroki was furious with himself for hearing a tone in his voice he thought he'd left behind with his teenage years.

Nowaki interceded on his date's behalf, "Actually, Kamijou-san," "I hope you don't mind… But I would love to monopolize you for a bit. There are so many things I'd like to ask you about you son. Hiro-san is so reticent when it comes to speaking about himself."

The lady Kamijou allowed herself to be mollified by Nowaki's request. Hiroki was her favorite subject for conversation. Far more so than Akihiko-kun, though she knew her son would never believe this. "Well, Kusama-san…"

"Please? It would mean a great deal to me. I'd appreciate getting to know you too. I apologize if this seems too bold, but you strike me as quite remarkable. Many mothers could not be enticed to meet me, were I courting their son."

"What are you waiting for, Hiroki? Go meet your supervisor!" Hiroki's mother suddenly dismissed her son with a wave. "Don't make him greet you. How rude! I know I raised you with better manners than that."

Hiroki immediately set out, he had gone just a few steps when he cast a glance back at the escort who was now asking his mother what his favorite foods were. The professor knew this question alone would give his mother conversational fodder for hours.

Nowaki looked up. The lady Kamijou was offering an animated description of the special spice she put in her morning miso. His gaze shifted just long enough for his eyes to meet Hiroki's.

Hiroki offered a curt nod. Nowaki, in exchange, offered the professor a different shade of smile and returned to entertaining his fake boyfriend's mother.

* * *

><p>Per Hiroki's prediction, a dour-faced Akihiko arrived ten minutes before he was scheduled to go on, literally being pulled into the now-crowded lecture hall by a very cross-looking Aikawa.<p>

Any spark of pleasure that Hiroki felt seeing Akihiko was immediately doused when he noticed Takahiro blithely following along behind the author and his editor. This displeasure only increased when he noticed that the publishing house's director, and Usami Haruhiko's childhood friend, Isaka had joined the party too this evening.

Given Akihiko's lateness, there was little chance for formal introductions. Hiroki barely had time to introduce Akihiko to his department head, before the talk was scheduled to begin. He would have to wait until after the lecture to introduce Akihiko to Nowaki.

Hiroki mounted the stage with the head of the department and Akihiko. Akihiko's entourage had reserved seats in the front row. Seated next to them were Kamijou-san and the escort. Nowaki looked to have completely disarmed his mother and the two were chatting as though they'd been friends for years.

_What in the hell kind of customer service is this?_ He watched his mother's feminine flutter as his handsome hire continued to charm her. _I specifically told that idiot to be rude!"_ Hiroki fumed, _"Not make her think he's fucking son-in-law material."_ He scowled at his betrayer.

Nowaki must have felt the weight of this stare because he immediately looked up and gave Hiroki a breathtaking smile. Seeing this and the warm blue light in the escort's eyes, Hiroki frowned further.

_Does he look at all of his clients like that?_

_If so, I bet he gets a lot of repeat customers._ Yet, despite how furious he still was, something in Nowaki's expression touched him. Hiroki felt his anger slipping from him, though he wasn't ready to relinquish it yet.

With a deep sigh Hiroki looked away and took his seat next to Akihiko. He nodded at his friend and then ran a hand nervously through his wild dark hair.

_Focus, Kamijou._ _You need to put all your attention on this introduction, not worry about the mad butterflies fluttering in about in your stomach because of some charming hustler's smile._

* * *

><p>Nowaki had been enjoying his conversation with Kamijou-san. Within minutes of talking with the lady, he could see that Hiro-san came by at least part of his temperament naturally: Kamijou-san had depth and a definite spark to her. Nowaki was delighted to find that, though a very traditional woman in many respects, Hiro-san's mother had a very open mind when it came to the acceptance of her son. He was moved by her obvious attachment.<p>

When the younger Usami had arrived, Nowaki had looked up from his discussion with Kamijou-san. The author had been easy to discern by the way that the crowd murmured and moved around him. His assemblage of companions also set him off from everyone else. But more than these things, Nowaki knew who he was instantly by the way that Hiro-san looked at him.

As he now watched Hiroki up on the stage, it saddened Nowaki to realize that his initial intuition had been correct about his fake boyfriend's connection to the author: it was clear to him that Hiro-san had a deep attachment to Usami.

_They're obviously more than childhood friends, at least for Hiro-san. _

Nowaki wondered if Kamjiou-san had been correct in asserting that Usami and the professor had been involved at one time. He had watched Hiroki's eyes glow and suddenly soften at Akihiko's appearance, even if the expression was fleeting. The professor's countenance had immediately become stern again, however, when he surveyed the other members of the author's party.

Before mounting the stage, Usami had handed his coat to a mild looking fellow in glasses. The author had then clapped his companion on the shoulder in that hearty male way, but Nowaki had observed that the expression held in Usami's gaze was far from fraternal. Given Hiro-san's attachment, Nowaki had found himself secretly pleased that Usami had his own apparent object of affection.

The head of the Japanese department, rose suddenly from where he'd been sitting and moved to the podium to begin the lecture. After a brief description of what an honor it was to have Usami Akihiko speaking at their institution, the man went on to briefly thank Professor Kamijou for his part in the evening's affairs.

Nowaki stared entranced as he witnessed Hiro-san's subtle transformation once the professor stepped up to the lectern. Hiroki's resonant growl became almost melodic. His extraordinary red-brown eyes, even behind their glasses, blazed with the passion he held for the art form he had dedicated his life to, and his nervously proud stance was suddenly, simply proud.

Hiroki's words were crisp but also tender, as he spoke about Usami's life and his works. Unlike many, given such an opportunity to speak, the young professor did not elevate himself by dwelling on his friendship with the guest speaker. And even though he did add a personal touch at his introduction's conclusion, here he still focused, as he had in the body of his speech, on Akihiko Usami's alchemy of words and the ways in which the young author transformed his reader's world, even if only temporarily.

"I have, during the course of my life, been bestowed with the appellation of 'bookworm' on more than one occasion." Hiroki offered in his sonorous growl.

This bit of self-deprecation elicited chuckles from a number of his colleagues in the crowd. But then he continued.

"While the term 'worm' may, to some, seem rather lowly, considering the writings of Usami Akihiko, I have come to believe this designation for myself is particularly apt.

"For you see, like the ravenous caterpillar I consume his pages and as I am reading, from these I spin and I find myself inevitably held in chrysalis of fiction.

"At the conclusion of each of Usami-sensei's novels, this fragile shell of poetic meditation shatters. In an altered state I am released back into the world to flutter madly. I leave my shelter of words and, with fresh wings, if only for an instant, I am carried off by a sense of ecstatic wonder and the transcendent feeling of flight."

Nowaki ceased hearing anything after this description. He had been transported by the professor's own personal poetry.

_No wonder, Hiro-san is stirred by Usami, if he's able to conjure such feelings in him_. The escort found his own, already strong, feelings disconcertingly intensified. He could not recall ever being so moved by another person before.

As difficult as it was, Nowaki managed to shift his gaze from the auburn-haired academic to the author as they traded places at the microphoned stand. He studied Usami intently trying to size up this man he had suddenly begun to see as a most challenging adversary.

Standing at the podium now, gone was the petulant boy dragged in by his cuff; he had been magically replaced by the picture of a polished aristocrat. Usami was eloquent, handsome, and he had the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand within a minute. Still, Nowaki wondered if most could see that the warm delivery of his words was in-congruent with the expression in the man's pale eyes.

An unexpected shiver ran down Nowaki's spine as he briefly considered whether this Usami was anything like his older brother.

_I can't imagine Hiro-san attaching himself to someone like that. _

Disturbed by this thought, Nowaki looked back over at where the professor had now seated himself back on the stage. Hiroki's face was truly unguarded at the moment, his infatuation obvious. He was hanging on the novelist's every word.

Nowaki's emotions ran deep, but their waters were generally considerably calmer than he found them this evening. The escort felt a sudden wave of melancholia well up inside him. More than anything in the world, he realized suddenly that he wanted Kamijou Hiroki to look on him some day with that same kind of intense affection, that same expression of quiet pride.

A deep pain immediately followed this epiphany, as Nowaki compared himself with the younger Usami. Considering the status and accomplishment of the object of Hiro-san's desire, Nowaki knew there was absolutely no way he could compete. He dropped his head for a moment. The shame that he worked so hard to deny about his situation suddenly crashed against the shores of his heart, another surge of unexpected emotion. He struggled now not to drown.

Looking back up at Hiroki, Nowaki drew a deep breath.

He knew that the difficulties of his life had made him a strong person and he would not allow himself to be pulled under by the seeming futility of his situation. Nowaki determined in that instant that he would find some way to make himself worthy of Hiro-san's love.

_Somehow…_

This resolve appeared to him as a lifeboat and he clamored into it, sure this decision would now carry him over his tumultuous feelings.

The lady Kamijou turned and looked at the tall youth sitting beside her. Her heart was warmed, that her son had found someone so sensitive. It was obvious looking at Kusama that he was deeply, visibly moved.

"He's brilliant. Isn't he, Kusama-san?" Hiroki's mother murmured.

Nowaki responded not taking his eyes from the stage. "I have never heard or seen anyone so amazing,"

"I take it you've read most of his books then?"

Turning at last, Nowaki looked at the woman beside him with an expression of perplexity. He shook his head rather sadly.

His words simultaneously astonished and convicted Hiroki's mother.

"Ah… Kamijou-san, so sorry. I misunderstood you.

"I was speaking of your son."

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you all for the last chapter's reviews. They really carry me. And for all you silent readers, thank you for reading along.<strong>


	7. Chapter 7: The Reception

**The Escort**

**Chapter Seven: The Reception**

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><p>Akihiko's lecture drew a standing ovation from the packed auditorium. Following its conclusion he was thronged with admirers. Hiroki also was approached by a number of colleagues who offered him praise for his introduction.<p>

The professor was surprised, however, when his mother approached him after the lecture, before going to offer her congratulations to Akihiko.

"Hiroki, I am so very proud of you." Kamijou-san's eyes glowed. "My brilliant boy."

Hiroki, who had already been blushing from his colleagues' comments, turned an even deeper shade of red. "Erm… Yes… Well, my final analogy could have been a bit more refined. And there was a connection to the works of a particular fifteenth century poet I was going to make but forgot."

His mother had often told him he was smart, but this was most usually said as segue way into a lament about how his intelligence rendered him so difficult. Tonight however, there had been a different tone in her voice.

"Ffffft," the lady Kamijou huffed at her son rolling her eyes.

Despite how often she chided him about his terrible manners, she knew that, even with his own mother, Hiroki would never accept a compliment out of his sense of politeness. Rather than berate him however, instead she once again took his hand.

As before, Hiroki tried to pull away, but Kamijou-san held on stubbornly rather than allowing him to break contact as she usually would have done. Hiroki was shocked at the unexpected strength his mother's grip. His eye's widened at this and he looked at her quizzically.

"I know that Akihiko-kun asked me to join you all for dinner after this, but all this intellectualism has worn this simple lady out, I am afraid." The lady Kamijou did her best to sound fragile. She looked over slyly at Nowaki, who stood quietly off to the side at a respectful distance, waiting for Hiroki to be free before he approached.

"Besides you young people should be able to go out and have a good time after your success, without having to worry about some prudish old woman tagging along."

Hiroki's eyes followed his mother's gaze over to the escort. He turned back to her with an expression of surprise though when she asked, "Will you please pass my apologies on to Akihiko-kun?"

"What? You're going to leave now without talking to him?" Hiroki was astonished by this: next to him, his mother was seriously Usami Akihiko's number one fan. He couldn't imagine her leaving without paying her respects to her "second son."

"Well, as I said," Kamijou-san answered crisply, "all this high talk has worn me out and I am sure I will talk with Akihiko-kun in a few days _when he calls me_."

Then Kamijou-san squeezed her son's hand. She leaned in closer to Hiroki and whispered,

"I want you to know… I am not just proud of you for the introduction you delivered, Hiroki, though it was amazing, but also because I am so pleased to see you finally moving on with your life.

"I had always hoped that you and Akihiko-kun might get together someday, but I will admit, I have long wearied of seeing you suffer so much."

The lady looked into her son's dismayed eyes with a look of sad amusement. Then she gave a delicate snort. "If Akihiko is such a blind ass that he doesn't recognize what a catch you are, I am so glad you have finally found someone who does." She reached up and tucked a stray strand of wild hair behind her son's ear.

Hiroki was so shocked he didn't even try to move away from her touch this time. He burned crimson at his mother's declaration, having always thought she was ignorant of his feelings for Akihiko.

The lady Kamijou looked over at Nowaki. "I think Kusama-san is a good man. A bit uncomplicated perhaps…" Her gaze shifted over to the crowd around Akihiko. "But maybe a certain simplicity is what you need.

"After all, I feel quite sure you have more than enough complications for the both of you."

She dropped her son's hand and started to move away as another of Hiroki's colleagues came up to congratulate him. Before she left she went over to say goodbye to Nowaki.

"Hiroki," Kamijou-san called out from her place beside the escort. Hiroki looked up, still dazed by their interaction.

"You call me and I'll let you know the next time your father is out of town so you can behave like a proper son and bring Kusama-san home for dinner."

With that, after a parting nod to Nowaki and a heartfelt smile, the lady shuffled off.

Hiroki switched his gaze from his mother's disappearing form back to the escort. His initial fears for the evening had just been confirmed. This whole thing was a disaster but not in any way he could have anticipated.

* * *

><p>After the lecture there was a small faculty reception that had been set up in honor of Akihiko. Hiroki was there now with his escort. He held a small plate of hors d'oeuvres Nowaki had thoughtfully collected for him. The escort had used, as a guide, the information he had collected from the lady Kamijou's detailed discussion of her son's tastes.<p>

Hiroki didn't know this, however, as he looked down and realized that Nowaki had picked things that he liked. Not that he was really interested in eating right now.

_What I'd really like, is a stiff drink._

Almost as if he'd read his thoughts, Nowaki appeared by his side again and offered him a glass of wine. Hiroki hadn't spoken more than two words to him since his mother had left, despite the fact that they'd been together at the reception for about twenty minutes now.

After drinking about half of his glass of wine, the professor finally felt ready to address his disobedient date.

_Damn it's annoying to have to look up at this brat. No one should be given permission to be so tall. _

"Nowaki, what in the hell did you say to my mother?" Hiroki underlined his question with a new scowl.

Nowaki looked only the slightest bit guilty. "But Hiro-san, Kamijou-san is such a lovely lady… I worried it would reflect badly on you if you had chosen a lover who would be rude to your mother."

"I said _rude, but not too_," Hiroki snapped. "You could have at least been standoffish…" Before Hiroki could launch any further into his tirade, his office mate and senior professor, Miyagi, walked up.

"Ah, my sweet Ka-mee-jou, I am sorry I didn't have a chance to catch you in the auditorium, but glad I found you here. Quite the event I think."

Hiroki looked from Miyagi to the young woman attached to his arm; she was pretty but at the same time rather fierce looking.

"And is this the mysterious _boyfriend_ you have reluctantly mentioned a time or two over the last few months?" Miyagi grinned mischieviously.

Hiroki hated the way Miyagi's companion's eyes widened at this information and a tight line formed with her mouth.

"Ah, yes, Professor Miyagi this is Kusama Nowaki," Hiroki offered. "Nowaki this is Professor Miyagi, the senior professor I work with that I have told you about." Hiroki felt his cheeks pink at his lie.

"Complained about might be more apt, I bet." Miyagi said with his perpetual half amused smile; his eyes however were studying the escort intently. "Hiroki said you were tall, but he didn't say you were really tall… How tall are you?"

Hiroki muttered, "Too damn tall."

At the exact same time Nowaki replied pleasantly, "One hundred and eighty –six centimeters, But I sometimes think I am still growing."

"Ah, well, it would take someone of stature to match Kamijou." Miyagi laughed lightly as he looked at Nowaki. "Such a handful this junior… Though, no doubt, you know that better than most."

Before Nowaki could respond to Miyagi's tease, the older professor's brow cocked. "I'm sorry, Kusama-san, but do I know you? You look awfully familiar to me."

Hiroki looked at Nowaki; the escort's smile flickered just briefly.

"Yes, I get that a lot," Nowaki murmured before shifting his gaze to Miyagi's silent companion. "And who is your lovely associate, Miyagi-san?"

"So sorry, where are my manners?" Miyagi looked at the woman whose expression indicated she had been wondering the same thing. "This is my fiancé Takatsuki Risako."

"Takatsuki… Are you connected to the Dean by chance?" Hiroki asked.

"I'm his daughter," Risako tersely supplied.

"Well, may I offer you congratulations on your upcoming nuptuials." Hiroki offered this once again remembering his drunken experience with his senior and thinking that was something else it might have been nice for Miyagi to tell him before he'd had his cock in mouth.

"Well, until recently, because of Miyagi-san's position we had been trying to keep it a secret," Risako's expression softened just slightly as she looked at Miyagi and gently squeezed his arm.

Hiroki's brow furrowed as he glared at his senior. "Yes, well Miyagi is good at keeping secrets, I think."

"I beg your pardon?" Risako was puzzled by the junior professor's tone.

"Ah, Risako, look there is Professor Suzuki-san. I have a question I have been meaning to ask him. Do you mind dear? I am sure he would love to say hello to you as well," Miyagi said all of this rather rapidly as he began to pull the confused woman away. "Uh, nice to meet you, Kusama-san," Miyagi murmured as he hurried his fiancé along with him.

Hiroki turned to Nowaki with a look of curiosity. "Did you know him, Nowaki?"

Nowaki took a small sip of his wine and watched with some concern as his date quickly finished his own glass.

"Umm, yes, Hiro-san… I believe I have seen him at one of my manager's clubs." What Nowaki didn't tell Hiroki was that the part of the club he'd seen Miyagi in in was a V.I.P. area set aside for valued patrons who had a particular taste for teenage boys.

* * *

><p>Normally Hiroki didn't drink to excess. When he did drink alcohol, it had a tendency affect him rather quickly and the results of this were often unfortunate. Now, looking at the bottom of his glass he was surprised to see that it was empty. It was his third.<p>

He was aware that he had been drinking much more than usual lately. He had not been with anyone since Shinoda, so instead of the physical distractions he had previously sought, Hiroki supposed he'd been using alcohol now to try and medicate the pain he felt over Akihiko.

"Hiro-san, are you sure you don't want to eat something now?' Nowaki asked, concerned. The glasses had been full and Hiroki was on the slender side. "I could get you some more hors d'oeuvres."

"I'm fine," Hiroki growled. He felt even for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, not tipsy. "And I don't feel particularly hungry." Hiroki handed his plate of untouched appetizers to Nowaki.

"I might want some more wine though."

"Perhaps you should hold off until dinner then," Nowaki advised. He often had clients who drank too much, occasionally ones who used drugs as well, and it always made him nervous. One never knew what someone might do under the influence of a certain substance. Tonight, however, Nowaki's main worry was that he didn't want anything to happen that might compromise Hiro-san on the night of this important event.

Just then, Akihiko entered the room with his posse and headed over towards them.

Akihiko still had his professional face on, but his mask was starting to wear thin. He was stopped several times along the way by variously faculty, so it took him some time, but eventually the author found his way to Hiroki.

"Ah, Hiroki…"

Aikawa and Isaka had gotten sidetracked and were now engaged in conversations with various professors.

_Faculty desperate to find publication for their dusty academic prose, no doubt…_ Hiroki was distressed to soon realize, however, that while those two were occupied, Takahiro was still at Akihiko's side.

Akihiko looked intently at Nowaki now he'd reached them.

The escort felt the sharp edge of Usami's scrutiny, but rather than back down from it, he straightened himself up and looked at the other proudly. Being wealthy didn't necessarily impress Nowaki.

_Not when you've fucked as many millionaires as I have._

Akihiko's brow rose slightly when the other man puffed up a bit at his once-over. "So, Hiroki… This must be the infamous boyfriend?

"Akihiko Usami, Takahashi Takahiro, this is Kusama Nowaki," Hiroki offered this looking only slightly disconcerted. He was grateful for the wine as, even slightly smoothed out as he was by the alcohol; this moment was nerve-wracking for him.

"Tall," Akihiko murmured appraising Nowaki again and then promptly ignoring him as he addressed Hiroki. "But that was how you described him."

If he was aware that he was being rude, Akihiko didn't acknowledge this. Instead he nodded to Nowaki addressing the escort at last. "You've have proven to be a most elusive persona. I was starting to wonder whether or not you truly existed."

"I can assure you that I am quite real," Nowaki said smoothly, but there was an undercurrent in his voice that caused both Akihiko and Hiroki to look up at him suddenly with a start.

"Wait a minute," Takahiro had finally processed the first part of the conversation. "Did you say boyfriend? You're a homo, Kamijou-san?" The spectacled man asked abruptly, his tone showing surprise.

"Yes."

Not picking up on the irritation in Hiroki's one word answer, Takahiro exclaimed innocently, "But I've known you since high-school… When did this happen?… I mean, how long have you been gay?"

Hiroki looked at the idiot his unrequited chose to throw his energies after and offered coolly, "let me see, so I just turned twenty-four recently."

"Yes?"

Hiroki could not believe how dense Takahiro was. "So, that's how long I've been I've been a homo."

The professor ignored Akihiko's barbed glare.

"Did you know that, Usagi?" Takahiro looked at the author. Hiroki cringed at the juvenile nickname.

"Ummm," Akihiko pretended to be looking for a cigarette.

"Right front interior pocket," Hiroki snapped.

"I don't mean any offense, Kamijou-san," Takahiro offered apologetically, "I am just surprised I didn't know is all."

Hiroki glared at Akihiko, "Well, Takahashi-san, you probably have more gay people in your life than you are aware of."

Akihiko cleared his throat, distracting Takahiro before he had a chance to think too long about what Hiroki had just said. "Ah, Takahiro would you be so kind as to get me a glass of wine?"

"Oh, of course, Usagi! How unthinking that I didn't offer to do that for you earlier. What sort of friend am I?" Takahiro laughed.

"A good one," Akihiko answered tenderly.

Hiroki rolled his eyes and watched Akihiko watch Takahiro amble off in search of the wine.

Akihiko turned his gaze back. "Honestly, Hiroki, sometimes I think that your mother is right about you having no manners.

"Where is Mama Kamijou by the way? I was looking for her after my talk and didn't see her."

"She said she was feeling tired and needed to leave." The edges of Hiroki's voice were sharpened by Akihiko's chiding.

The author's brow rose, it was unlike Kamijou-san not to stay and speak with him. "Well you're coming to dinner with us at least aren't you?" Seeing Hiroki's hesitation he added, "I have to thank you somehow for that inspired introduction."

Akihiko stepped closer and he looked searchingly at his uncomfortable friend. "Besides it would be good to catch up, I haven't seen you for ages. I tried reaching you at the University all week with no luck. I mean until I saw you when I came in tonight, I had begun to wonder if you were still alive."

Hiroki looked at the concern in his friend's eyes and it tore at his heart.

"I've been busy, Akihiko. We're not children any more. I don't have time to spend my days playing with famous novelists." Hiroki was shocked by the anger in his voice.

"Ah,well, I understand that," Akihiko sighed. "But Hiroki, but you still need to take care of yourself. Are you eating properly?

"It really doesn't look like it. You should come to dinner for no other reason then so that you can have a good meal. It might help your color. You can ride with Takahiro and me, if you like."

Akihiko reached up and affectionately tousled Hiroki's hair.

Nowaki had been standing, trying to temper his rising anger at the scene playing out before him. He couldn't recall ever seeing someone whose concern was so blatantly cruel.

_Can't Usami see that he's devastating Hiro-san?_

The escort had reached his limit. He'd been holding Hiroki's plate and now he moved to set this on a table behind. Nowaki stepped up behind Hiroki and reached one hand around his chest, as if by that action he could gather together the pieces of the professor's shattered heart. Then he ran his other hand through Hiroki's hair.

It was just as soft as Nowaki had imagined and the thickness of it sliding through his fingers stirred him.

His action displaced Akihiko's hand and caused the author to draw it back. The two men's flesh had touched just for an instant in this exchange and both were startled: Akihiko by Nowaki's heat, Nowaki by Akihiko's coolness.

Tightening his grip around the startled professor's chest, Nowaki pulled Hiroki back into him possessively.

"We may decide to join you for dinner," Nowaki's voice was light, but articulated his claim quite clearly, "But I will be taking Hiro-san."

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><p><strong>Thank you for all the great reviews. Happy Reading!<strong>


	8. Chapter 8: The Break Up

**The Escort**

**Chapter Eight: The Break Up  
><strong>

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><p>Hiroki was so stunned by Nowaki's actions that it took him a moment to respond.<p>

He could see, with the eye that wasn't obscured by Nowaki's hand, Akihiko was equally taken aback. His friend's usually impassive face wore a look of blatant shock.

Pushing back, Hiroki was relieved when Nowaki released him with relatively little resistance. He turned his head and gave the escort a withering glare. This was lost on Nowaki, however; the escort was too lost in his own hard stare, directed at Akihiko.

"Er… Excuse me, Akihiko. I need to speak to Nowaki for a moment privately." Hiroki's low voice was strained by the effort took to keep his anger in check.

He would have gone off right there, but fortunately, despite the wine he'd consumed, he still had enough sense to know he did not want a repeat of a scene like the one he'd suffered with Shinoda. Especially not now that he was finally back in his department's good graces.

Grabbing one of Nowaki's sleeves, Hiroki pulled the tall youth after him as he stepped out of the faculty lounge and into the hallway, leaving a still-stunned Akihiko behind him. It took the professor a bit to get the escort moving: Nowaki had been so focused in his anger it had taken him a moment to realize what Hiroki was doing.

In the hallway, a safe distance away from the door, Hiroki shoved Nowaki, pushing his "date" up against a wall.

"What in the hell was that, Nowaki? What do you think you're doing?" Hiroki was fighting a losing battle to keep his voice down. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this angry. "Akihiko is my oldest friend. To have you behave like that is just humiliating!"

Nowaki was surprised by the professor's strength and by his anger.

"Hiro-san, I am supposed to be your boyfriend. Right? What kind of man would I be to let someone else sweep you away without complaint? Especially when that person was obviously causing you so much pain." Nowaki's voice was incredibly earnest.

That an escort had seen his truth so clearly, this stranger he'd just met, when the object of his affections had been brushing against it for years without notice, only fueled Hiroki's fury.

"But you're _not_ my boyfriend, Asshole!"

"I am for tonight, and I will not allow you to be treated that way," Nowaki said calmly.

"What 'way?'... What?" Hiroki was beside himself with indignation. Then his eyes lit up. "Okay, that's it! This is perfect; we're breaking up right now!"

"No."

Nowaki still appeared very calm, but inside a whirlwind of emotions swirled. "Hiro-san, I am not breaking up with you."

"Wha…?" Hiroki was practically speechless but as soon as he found his voice again he all but shouted, "What in the hell do you mean you're not breaking up with me? That was our arrangement!"

"Well, for one, it seems unlikely that someone who pursued you so 'tenaciously' would let you go so simply," Nowaki offered, sounding maddeningly reasonable.

"For another, I always try to serve my clients' best interests and I don't think that showing yourself 'broken up' in front of your 'friend' would really serve you well at all.

"In fact, I think the best thing would be to show him that you're completely happy in your new love. Who knows? Maybe it would make him jealous.

"And lastly, I just simply don't want to." Nowaki forwarded his final reason rather softly, but the intensity of his eyes when he spoke was unnerving.

"What the hell kind of rationale is that?" Hiroki sputtered, though he had to admit the idea of trying to make Akihiko jealous, while probably impossible, was also enticing.

Shaking this thought from his head, Hiroki returned to the moment. "This is not what I fucking paid you for!" he snarled. "You need to just do your damned job!"

"I'll give you your money back."

Hiroki looked at Nowaki, incredulity competing suddenly with his anger. "What in the hell kind of hustler are you?"

"Maybe not such a good one," Nowaki smiled and shrugged.

"I'll say! This is ridiculous! I'm going back in there. You should just go the fuck home or wherever it is that you hang out! Like, maybe that club where you saw Miyagi!" Hiroki spat. He turned on his heel and moved as though he was going to go back to the reception.

Before he could react though, Nowaki reached out and grabbed him. Hiroki suddenly found himself spun around with his own back now pressed against the wall. The escort loomed over him and Hiroki was trapped. One of Nowaki's large hands rested against the wall on either side of his head.

"We are going to dinner together with your author, Hiro-san… And you are going to pretend like we're a perfectly happy couple." Nowaki's voice was now weighted low by his own stirred emotions.

Hiroki was shocked out of his fury by this declaration. Looking into the escort's amazing blue eyes, he felt something inside himself begin to give way.

"Why… Why would you want to do this, Nowaki?"

Nowaki cocked his head slightly to the side at the question.

Despite how uncomfortable this situation felt, Hiroki suddenly thought that the man leaning over him looked, for an instant, like an overgrown puppy. He was stunned to see how Nowaki's eyes had softened.

"I wonder why?" Nowaki said quietly, the look on his face had become slightly sorrowful.

"That's what I am asking you, Dumb-a...umph…"

Hiroki's irritated query was cut off as his face was suddenly taken between two large hands and he was kissed… Hard.

Struck by the warmth of the younger man's lips, despite his best intentions, Hiroki felt himself melting. The kiss was deep and sweet. Hiroki was panting when Nowaki finally released his mouth.

The escort dropped his hands from the professor's jaw and resumed his earlier position trapping him between outstretched arms. Turning his head to the side and looking past Nowaki's arms, Hiroki felt himself blush immediately: Akihiko had stepped out of the lounge looking for him and had witnessed the kiss from where he'd stood in the hallway.

"Umm… Hiroki, old man, we're leaving for dinner… I can't take any more of this socializing. Are you coming or not?" Akihiko's usually confident voice was hesitant.

Hiroki looked back at Nowaki. The escort smiled, and cocked a brow at him. It was obvious from his expression he'd seen Akihiko enter the hall: Nowaki seemed to know exactly what it was he was doing.

Hiroki glared back which only made Nowaki's smile wider. The professor ducked down and out from under the escort's arms and walked towards Akihiko, straightening his coat.

Nowaki trailed along silently, just a few paces behind.

"Yeah, we're coming, but we have our own car," Hiroki growled as he drew near.

Akihiko regarded Hiroki with troubled eyes before he opened the door, readying to go back into the lounge to gather the rest of his party. "I'll tell the others we're leaving, then."

"I just have to get my bag and have the driver come 'round." Hiroki hated to admit that a small part of him was thrilled to see Akihiko's eyes shift uncomfortably between he and the escort. At the same time, Hiroki couldn't shake the lingering sensation on his lips from intensity of Nowaki's kiss or the enticing, wet heat of the escort's mouth.

"Nice to see you two made up so quickly," Akihiko murmured when Hiroki finally joined him. Hiroki could see by the look in his friend's eyes that Akihiko was not being entirely honest.

"Given your temper, I was sure you'd be joining us alone." The novelist watched as Nowaki settled a proprietary hand on Hiroki's shoulder once he joined them.

Rather than shaking it off as was his first impulse, Hiroki allowed Nowaki's hand to remain there. "Yeah well, that just shows how little you still know me after all these years."

Hiroki offered this to Akihiko quietly, entirely too aware of the irony of his words.

* * *

><p>The ride to the restaurant was spent in silence. Hiroki watched Nowaki intently whenever he thought the escort wasn't looking. After his earlier outbursts however, Nowaki, for his part, now seemed quite content to just sit.<p>

Hiroki found this sudden aplomb maddening. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what in the hell Nowaki had been thinking, forcing him to accept Akihiko's invitation for dinner. He was still furious too that his hired help had refused to cooperate by dumping him like he was supposed to.

At least, this is what he kept telling himself. But the young scholar was also too well aware that there was a part of him that was intrigued now by the giant enigma beside him. If Hiroki was completely honest, in fact, when Nowaki had pinned him against the wall and kissed him, he had also been more than a little turned on.

When they arrived at their destination at last, once again, Nowaki waited for the driver to let them out. He recognized the restaurant immediately: it was a five star place that he had some history with. For one, he'd been to it on occasion with previous clients.

When they went inside, Hiroki spoke to the maître de regarding their party. It turned out Akihiko had arranged for his group to have their own private room.

When the false couple entered the room they found Akihiko and his entourage had already arrived. Akihiko, adopting the role of paterfamilias, was seated at the head of the table. Takahiro was seated on the author's left, Aikawa on the right, and Isaka next to her.

Akihiko motioned to Hiroki to take the seat next to Takahiro, exactly where Hiroki had no desire to sit. Still, after he introduced Nowaki to the rest of the party, he accepted the offered seat. Nowaki took the chair beside him.

This seating arrangement put the escort on the outskirts of the table, but Nowaki didn't mind as long as he was sitting next to Hiro-san.

Nowaki's brow rose a bit but he remained silent when the waiter came for drink orders and Hiroki switched from the wine he'd been drinking at the reception to something harder. Instead of a drink himself, Nowaki ordered seltzer. As he made this request, Nowaki noticed Aikawa studying him curiously.

He wasn't a big drinker normally and it was his general policy anyway, not to drink when he was working, unless his client demanded it, which they occasionally did. If that was the case, Nowaki had long ago learned the art of nursing a single drink... For hours, if necessary.

Hiroki pretended to study the menu, though actually, food was the farthest thing from his mind. His stomach was aching from the stress of the evening's events and he had little appetite. However, appearing engaged at the moment kept people (Takahiro) from talking to him.

"The eel here is very good, Hiro-san. Nowaki suggested amicably sensing the man's disinterest. "Kamijou-san mentioned you like that." The escort had, in fact, eaten that dish there while entertaining a client the previous week.

From where he sat at the end of the table, Akihiko heard the tall youth's comment. Nowaki's words had been soft, but the author found himself strangely attuned to the other man's voice, despite all the other conversation going on around him.

"Excuse me if I seem impolite, Kusama-san, but Hiroki told me you were a student and working. I can't help but wonder how you'd be acquainted with the menu for this establishment." The smoothness of Akihiko's voice camouflaged the spikes in his query.

Nowaki felt Hiroki tense beside him at the question, but he just nodded agreeably despite the rude implications and said much more pleasantly than he felt, "Ah, I can understand your curiosity, Usami-san. I used to work here."

Isaka, ever sharp, had immediately picked up on the shark-like circling of Akihiko's inquiry. If there was blood in the water here, he definitely wanted to be part of the frenzy.

"I've come here for ages, Kusama-san. How is it then that I'd never seen you?"

Nowaki kept his expression mild despite the fact he was aware that Isaka was using this as an opportunity to ingratiate himself to Usami.

"I worked in the kitchen," he replied simply and then turned his attention to his own menu, signaling the end of his interest in this particular conversation.

Actually this was true. He had worked at the restaurant as a dishwasher briefly. It wasn't too long after he'd been hired however, that he had met Matsuo. He'd quit a few weeks after this.

Fortunately, the drinks arrived a moment later and this distracted the table's occupants from pressing further.

Nowaki watched Hiroki knock his drink back quickly and ask for another. This arrived promptly before their main waiter came to take their order. It was obvious to Nowaki, based on the speed of the staff's service, that Akihiko was figure of no small importance.

Hiroki was working on his second drink when Takahiro asked him, "So tell me, Kamijou-san, how long have you and Kusama-san been together?"

"It's been four glorious months, since he started pursuing me so _tenaciously_," Hiroki muttered taking another long drink. Takahiro, apparently deaf to the tone in Hiroki's answer, smiled at the faux pair.

"Well that's splendid."

"I have a relatively new love interest myself," Takahiro admitted cheerfully. "Now if we could just find a nice lady for Usagi, we'd all be set."

With the exception of Nowaki, everyone else at the table, including the author, nearly choked on their drinks at the idea of Akihiko with a woman.

"Hiro, my friend," Akihiko smiled, though anyone who knew him see his expression was strained at its edges. "Why don't you tell Aikawa about your little brother? I am sure, as a woman, she would love to know all about him, him being a child and all."

Aikawa gave Akihiko a significant look, somehow managing to shoot daggers and bat her eyes charmingly at the same time. She shifted her glance, smiling sweetly at the spectacled young businessman.

"Oh, no, Takahashi-san, there's no need to share such personal information if it's uncomfortable. Please, don't feel the need to use your little brother to entertain me."

"I don't mind at all, Aikawa-san, Misaki is about my favorite topic after all. Now let me see, what story shall I tell?" Takahiro's eyes drifted upwards as he sorted through the possibilities. As soon as Aikawa was sure that the man was no longer looking at her she turned back to Akihiko and mouthed furiously, "You bastard!"

Akihiko smiled and chuckled lightly at this until Aikawa narrowed her eyes at him and whispered, "You just wait until you ask for your next deadline extension, Usami Sensei."

Meanwhile down on the other side of Aikawa, a bored Isaka decided to have a bit of fun provoking Hiroki. The professor had now downed his second drink and, with his empty stomach, was seriously beginning to feel the alcohol's effects.

Slyly, Isaka turned to Nowaki to start his attack.

"You know, I'm a close friend of Usami-sensei's older brother, Haruhiko. So, I've known Kamijou since he was little, well littler anyway." Playing on Hiroki's insecurity about his height seemed a perfect place to open. Isaka smiled when Hiroki rose to the bait.

"I'll have you know I am a few inches above average height, Isaka-san… Just because I seem to be living in the land of the giants tonight…".

Hiroki's snap was stopped abruptly when Nowaki suddenly interjected, "Personally, I think Hiro-san's height is perfect." The escort looked levelly at Isaka, despite the fact the mention of Haruhiko made him nervous.

"Really?" Isaka asked curiously.

"Ummm," Nowaki took a sip of his seltzer.

"Rather fond of your _boyfriend_, are you?"

"Yes... quite. I wouldn't be with him if I wasn't."

"I suppose not." Isaka gave the escort's words a twist. "Kamijou would be quite a handful otherwise; too much trouble to bother with, I suppose."

Both Nowaki and Hiroki frowned at the director from across the table, which delighted their provocateur.

"That's not what I meant at all," Nowaki said evenly, though his expression was far from cordial.

In the car on the way to the restaurant, Akihiko had mentioned Nowaki's possessive demeanor to Isaka and noted that Hiroki's new beau seemed to have a bit of a temper. Isaka was sorry that he'd missed its earlier demonstration, but having had quite a bit of wine at the opening himself, he was in the mood to play with fire.

"You know, your Kamijou was quite the partyboy when he was younger." Isaka leered at Hiroki, who had just received his third drink from the waiter.

"He's told you all about his sordid past though, I suppose?"

At Isaka's words Hiroki's alcohol-pinked cheeks burned brighter and his naturally serious expression deepened.

Nowaki was appalled by Isaka's crudeness. Not wanting to embarrass Hiroki again, however, as he'd seemed to back at the reception, he kept his face neutral. It was a skill he'd had the chance to perfect entertaining countless clients.

"We all have things in our past we're not proud of doing," Nowaki replied. "That's why I believe that it is how we conduct ourselves in the present that matters most."

Hiroki shot a grateful look at Nowaki. Then he realized it was possible that the man beside him might have speaking as much about his own situation. Something in the escort's tone pulled at Hiroki's heart in a way that surprised him. It made him see Nowaki in a new light and Hiroki suddenly wondered how his companion had ended up doing what he did.

Despite Nowaki's response, Isaka was not prepared to leave off just yet. In fact, if anything, it incited him to a new level of cruelty.

"By the way, Kamijou, have you seen Haruhiko lately?" Isaka's eyes glinted when Hiroki stiffened at this second mention of the elder Usami.

"Hey, do you remember that night at the Usami New Year's party when you were sixteen, and Haru spiked your drink?" Isaka chuckled.

"What a fun time that was for the three of us, neh?" The young director grinned suggestively.

Alcohol had the tendency to bring out the truths that Hiroki generally kept hidden. _It might have been fun if I had been at all coherent. But given the company, I doubt it.  
><em>

Hiroki stared down at his drink, unaware that simultaneously he'd muttered this thought under his breath. He raised the glass to his lips and took another hard swallow. A loud laugh from Takahiro drew Isaka's attention so he didn't catch these words, but Nowaki did.

Having had his own experience with Haruhiko, it tore Nowaki's heart to know that Hiro-san had also suffered at the depraved aristocrat's hands.

_At such a tender age too._

His eyes narrowed as he looked at Isaka, thinking about how vicious it was to bring up something like this.

_An incident like that is something one shouldn't mention anyway, but particularly in these circumstances. How cruel._

Isaka turned his attention back to Hiroki, apparently Takahiro had been laughing about his latest goofy Misaki anecdote. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you were saying Kamijou, I'm afraid I got distracted."

Fortunately, despite his increasingly inebriated state, at the moment Hiroki still had some grasp on his faculties. He leveled his dark stare at the director. "I'm afraid I've forgotten that particular occasion. Sorry, Isaka-san."

"I'd think that'd be rather hard to do," Isaka prodded; his eyes held a feral spark. "I seem to recall it being a particularly memorable time."

"Hiro-san said he doesn't remember," Nowaki's voice was cold but the chill in his blue eyes bit like ice as they bore into Isaka. "Are you questioning his word?"

"Hold on there, Chief! Don't jump to conclusions," Isaka stammered, his polished surface suddenly wearing thin. Despite his mild drunkenness, something in Nowaki's demeanor finally triggered the director's survival instincts.

"Then what were you saying, exactly?" Nowaki quietly demanded.

Though he was grateful again for Nowaki's defense, not that he would ever admit it, before Isaka could reply, Hiroki attempted to handle the situation himself.

"I'm sorry I don't remember, Isaka." The alcohol made Hiroki's low growl louder than usual. "But if the moment was so memorable, maybe it's the kind of story you should share with your boyfriend, Asahina."

Isaka blanched at this comment wondering how in the hell Hiroki knew about his assistant/lover. Then the director remembered that Hiroki had attended the last party his publishing house had held in honor of Akihiko. He recalled the auburn-haired academic speaking with Asahina for a considerable length of time.

Isaka was still processing the shock of Hiroki's words, when a loud, "Waaahhhh," came from Takahiro, who had overheard what had been said.

"Wait, Isaka-san... You're a gay too?" Takahiro asked incredulously. The businessman sported a faint alcoholic blush of his own. He turned to Hiroki.

"You were so right, Kamijou-san, when you said that there were probably more homos around me than I was aware of."

"Almost, but not quite," Hiroki mumbled taking another big swallow, emptying his glass once again. However, he chose not to elaborate on this comment when he saw Takahiro's questioning face.

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><p><strong>Thank you for the alerts and follows and special thanks to my wonderful reviewers.<strong>


	9. Chapter 9: The Dinner Party

**The Escort**

**Chapter Nine: The Dinner Party**

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><p>When it became obvious that Hiroki did not intend to elaborate upon his vague comment, Takahiro turned back to Aikawa and Akihiko, oblivious to the tension his initial exclamation had stirred at the table.<p>

"Ah, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to leave off my story…Now where was I?"

Akihiko smiled encouragingly at his unrequited, after shooting Hiroki a hard look.

Uncomfortable as Takahiro's interruption been had been, however, the author had been glad for it. Despite his feigned interest, he'd been hoping for a distraction from having to listen to one more interminable minute of Misaki stories. Takahiro could literally go on for hours about his little brother and now Akihiko was seriously regretting having ever brought the subject up.

He knew he was taking a risk with such a close call only moments before, but he felt confident, after what had just happened, that no one at the table would implicate him.

_Unless someone says it outright Takahiro is too naïve as to understand my true nature. And even then…_

"Speaking again of 'man on man,' what this, Aikawa?" Akihiko asked suddenly, breaking Takahiro's monologue again.

He leaned over to the side of the table and emerged, now flipping through a bright-pink paperback with two beautiful young men embracing on its front cover.

There was another loud exclamation at the table as Aikawa squeaked in dismay.

"Sensei! What do you think you're doing?

"Didn't anyone ever teach you the sanctity of a lady's purse? You never to go into a woman's handbag uninvited!"

Akihiko looked at his editor with an expression displaying his own brand of density. "Oh?

"Well, I hardly went into your bag Aikawa-san. This was sitting on the top, practically falling out, in fact."

"Well... It's uh… research," Aikawa declared a little too quickly.

"Really?" Akihiko quirked an eyebrow at his editor. Aikawa's cheeks were pink but her eyes were blazing. She reached over and snatched the BL novel out of Akihiko's long fingers.

"For you information, Sensei, Marukawa is looking for some new yaoi, Boy's Love authors for its Sapphire Department and I have been trying to locate a few."

"It's actually a ridiculously popular genre," Isaka chimed in, glad for anything now that might steer people's minds further away from Kamijou's earlier mention of Asahina.

"Is that so?"

For the first time all evening Akihiko looked truly interested in the conversation. He reached over and plucked the book out of Aikawa's hand, yet again, opened it, and made a casual perusal of its pages. "Good sales then?"

Noticing the cover, Nowaki offered without thinking, "Oh, I read that one. I thought it was pretty good."

Everyone at the table turned and stared at the escort.

"Well, it's not realistic in certain aspects, but then that's the freedom of fiction. But I do like the passion and the humor and how poignant the relationships can be. It's hard to find stories otherwise where tenderness between two men is depicted so unapologetically."

Rather than diminish the scrutiny as he'd hoped, Nowaki realized uncomfortably that his words had just increased it.

"You do realize that almost all of these stories are written by women?" Aikawa asked, but her eyes had suddenly taken on a rather fevered shine.

"Are you saying that the author's gender should diminish my appreciation of the story in some way, Aikawa-san?" Nowaki sounded puzzled.

"No… I just mean that this genre is written by women for women mostly," Aikawa replied growing flustered.

Nowaki's handsome brow furrowed. "To be honest, I think the female perspective of the stories is intriguing. And I find what strikes me as a strange kind of balance in BL sometimes between what's generally rigidly termed 'masculine' and 'feminine.'"

"But then you think I shouldn't like it, Aikawa-san, because I'm a man?"

"No, no… that's not what I mean," Aikawa's cheeks were flushed. She grabbed the book out of Akihiko's hands and smacked Isaka on the shoulder with it.

"Trade me places Isaka-san, I want to talk with Kusama-san better."

"I was looking at that, Aikawa-san," Akihiko frowned, sounding put off.

Aikawa gave Akihiko a stern look. "Fine."

She laid it firmly on the table next to him. Akihiko could have her book; she was going to go talk with the real thing anyway.

"I'm happy to trade seats, Aikawa-kun." Isaka had decided that it was probably healthier for him at this point to get away from the couple he'd just so blatantly provoked.

While all of this was going on, Hiroki was intently studying Nowaki. He was shocked by the escort's critical analysis of a "fluff" genre. There was obviously a very keen mind held within Nowaki's handsome head. And, though he thought the escort's choice of reading was abysmal, he couldn't help but find himself moved by Nowaki's discussion of tenderness and notion of 'balance.'

Such an acknowledgement, if only internal, bothered Hiroki. He'd been raised tenderness was for the weak or for women; the two not necessarily being interchangeable categories, despite the fact culture often pressed one to think otherwise.

It was his own desire for occasional softness in himself or others, that Hiroki considered one of his great character flaws.

Looking down at his empty glass, the professor suddenly wondered if he hadn't drunk a bit too much: Liquor in excess, he knew, had a tendency to make him too free with such dangerous thoughts.

"I haven't ever read that genre but I imagine it's quite melodramatic." Hiroki frowned at Nowaki. "Please don't tell me you read shoujo too, with all its overwrought romance."

Nowaki smiled and shrugged.

"How can you not be embarrassed about an admission like that?" Hiroki realized as he asked this, he was not purely addressing the escort's literary inclinations.

"The world can be a very hard place, Hiro-san." Nowaki's sweet eyes suddenly looked much older than his twenty years. "I take my passion and romance where I can get it."

Despite the fact Hiroki knew full well that sex could exist devoid of either of these, he forwarded roughly, "I would have thought your life would have been full of those enough already."

Though his pleasant expression didn't shift at the jibe, Nowaki's deep-blue gaze reflected his truth.

Hiroki felt his heart being tugged once again.

Aikawa had settled into her new seat at the end of this exchange and thought that Kamijou was talking about the faux pair's relationship with each other, not about the escort's undisclosed occupation.

"Kyyaaa," She breathed excitedly, her eyes taking on a fangirl-glow. "How did you two meet anyway?"

Hiroki looked down towards the other end of the table where Akihiko, Takahiro, and Isaka had all slipped into the comfortable talk of business: the only area that Takahashi seemed to have any real understanding. The professor found such business-talk boring, but somehow, looking at the table's even division, couldn't help feeling he'd been demoted.

"Well, how we met isn't really all that interesting," Nowaki started, planning to keep to his client's requested story about the library.

Hiroki listened with half an ear as he watched the other three men's conversation. Akihiko reached over and tenderly grasped Takahiro's shoulder in response to a comment.

By this time, the alcohol he had consumed had finally, fully, taken hold and Hiroki's normal reserve was overcome by something daring.

"How can you say that?" Hiroki suddenly overrode Nowaki.

"I always thought the way we met was rather poetic." Seeing the dazzled shine in Aikawa's eyes at the mention of the "p" word, Hiroki hurriedly plunged ahead.

"Some could say our meeting was random, but others might say it was fate." The professor turned on the voice he used reading literary excerpts to his students.

"I was sitting on a bench at the park, lost in a world of sorrow.

"I'd been rejected, you see…" Hiroki dropped his eyes and his alcohol-pinked cheeks flushed deeper, "After confessing to someone I'd cared very deeply for years.

"But the one I harbored these feelings for was enmeshed in an unrequited affair of their own…" The professor was surprised by the unexpected rawness in his voice. He raised his head and glanced uncomfortably down towards the other end of the table. "Making my confession, I'd been forced to realize, at last, that he would never be mine."

Hiroki saw that as he relayed this, Akihiko had suddenly stopped conversing and was now listening intently. The professor pretended he hadn't noticed and looked instead back at Aikawa.

The editor had been immediately entranced; her eyes already glistened with sympathy.

Nowaki's eyes had begun to sparkle a bit too as Hiro-san offered their fabricated meeting. The escort stepped back in to offer his part for the rabid fangirl.

"I was there with some friends.

"One of them had always wanted to be an astronaut, so on a whim we got some manually launched rockets and decided to pretend to send him off." Nowaki seemed to be particularly relishing his telling.

"Anyway, one of our missiles got away from us and did an unexpected crash landing at Hiro-san's feet.

"When I went to find the rocket, I found Hiro-san too."

"The rocket wasn't the only thing I encountered that had fallen from heaven that day."

Nowaki reached out as he said this and ran one of his large hands through Hiroki's wild hair, tenderly ruffling it.

Hiroki had wanted to berate his date for adding such a corny line to their story, but was momentarily so lost in the heated caress of Nowaki's hand he hadn't even tried to pull away.

_This feels so familiar, but so… warm_

Returning to himself Hiroki did at last duck out from under the escort's large hand. He felt himself go crimson at Nowaki's open display of affection. He ran his own hand through his hair as if this could dislodge the sensation of Nowaki's touch and fixed his fake-beau with a fierce scowl.

"Dumb-ass, don't say such embarrassing things!"

"Wahhhh," Aikawa's face was radiant. She was totally crushing on the obvious chemistry of the two handsome men sitting across the table from her.

Down at the other end of the table, Akihiko snorted.

"Oh, Kusama-san, that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard someone say!" One could almost see the pink sparkles and tiny-winged bunnies floating around Aikawa's head. "Then what happened?" she asked in an eager whisper.

Nowaki had reluctantly set his hand on the edge of the table when it had lost contact with Hiroki's soft, brown locks. It moved over now and settled atop the professor hand that had continued gripping Hiroki's empty drink's glass.

The escort ignored his date's increased scowl.

"Well, Aikawa-san, I fell in love with Hiro-san's beautifully sad face the moment I saw him. I knew anyone capable of such deep emotion was a man to be treasured.

"So I introduced myself to him by boldly pulling him off that park bench and into my life."

Nowaki looked at Hiro-san and beamed. He smiled, unperturbed as Hiroki pulled his hand away.

"We started talking and once I realized he was brilliant as well as beautiful, a truly amazing person, I immediately began my _tenacious_ pursuit."

The whole table had become arrested with the false couple's story, but any successive conversation was thwarted as the food arrived and the wait staff began placing the various dishes in front of the diners.

In the midst of this disruption, Akihiko frowned down from the head of the table. He found Kusama's open effusiveness unbecoming and couldn't believe that Hiroki wasn't vehemently protesting such a saccharine outpouring.

Instead, his oldest friend was looking at the dark-haired youth with an expression that was almost…

_Smitten?_

_Well, Kusama is Hiroki's boyfriend…_ A boyfriend, Akihiko reminded himself, that he'd initially expressed delight hearing about.

Still, the novelist found himself feeling disturbed in a way that way he'd never experienced before. Not that he'd really had that much exposure to any of Hiroki's previous lovers: Hiroki had always been reticent about sharing his exploits in any detail.

Akihiko had long felt this was not done out of any particular sense of gentlemanly conduct but rather simply his friend's generally terse and private nature.

_But those were merely exploits._ _This looks like relationship._

Having now met Kusama, between the younger man's obvious temper and his gushing adoration, Akihiko decided he didn't approve of his best friend's beau. He found he was not above saying so both immediately and publicly.

"Honestly Hiroki…" Akihiko started, his voice heavy with disdain, but Aikawa abruptly cut him off.

"You two… I would totally pay to read your story…" Aikawa sighed. She looked at Hiroki with a new appreciation: until this moment Kamijou-san, though handsome, had simply been her troublesome author's accomplice in hiding out from missed deadlines. But now…

"I know you help Usami-sensei edit, Kamijou-san, but I don't suppose you might happen to write as well?" Aikawa's voice displayed her enthusiasm.

"Aikawa-kun, I don't see how such a smart woman could fall for such utter sappiness," Isaka chimed in. The director's tone was decidedly disappointed. He sensed Usami's distress and was still very perturbed that his own earlier antics had not disrupted the couple as he'd hoped.

"To be honest," Takahiro interjected, sounding sheepish, "I think I have to side with Aikawa-san here; it sounds lovely to me. I always have liked happy endings though." Takahiro's cheeks pinked a bit.

Akihiko looked at his unrequited and, for perhaps the first time in his life, openly rolled his eyes at the spectacled simpleton.

Hiroki caught Akihiko's expression out of the corner of his eye but, surprisingly, it didn't bring him the joy it normally would have. Instead, he was more engaged at the moment in reflecting on the black-haired youth beside him.

However, Aikawa's unthinking comments had galled his sensibilities on numerous levels and Hiroki turned back to the editor.

"Even if I did write, I would never stoop to writing something like that. I live in literature, not pornography. Besides…" Hiroki knew he was displacing his irritation at the complex emotions Nowaki had stirred in him. Still, this didn't stop him.

He added another layer of indignance to his voice, "You said that stuff was written by women, for women, Aikawa-san. Do I seem even remotely female to you?"

At this question, down the table Isaka snickered rudely. He stopped immediately, however, when he saw the dark look Nowaki directed at him.

At the head of the table Akihiko's mind had wandered off from the currently unfolding drama.

_It could be a good outlet however for one's private passions… and, I suppose, one could always use a pen name._

Aikawa was blushing profusely, mortified that she'd obviously, inadvertently, insulted the professor. "Oh Kamijou-san, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…"

Nowaki stepped in to assist the floundering damsel; he said soothingly, "Hiro-san, I am sure that Aikawa-san only meant that a man of your obvious talent and intellect could probably master any form of prose you sought to undertake."

Hiroki shifted his fiery gaze from the woman to his escort. He studied Nowaki intently for a few moments and then said, surprising everyone, including himself, "You know, you're a handsome guy, Nowaki."

The escort's eyes widened slightly at this comment and he realized that, as he had been fearfully anticipating, the alcohol had now possessed his date, though the professor's words were still remarkably clear, not seeming in the least bit slurred.

"Ah, so you have so kindly said on previous occasions, Hiro-san." Nowaki tried to frame his words to cover both his distress and his client.

Hiroki returned his fiery gaze to Aikawa who appeared incredibly distraught herself, but for an entirely different reason. His brow furrowed mightily at her as he decided whether or not he should continue to feel affronted.

"Hiro-san," Nowaki entreated, trying to redirect any remaining wrath away from the chagrined editor and back to himself, "I am sure no offense was intended…" He stumbled as Hiroki's dark stare turned back towards him: the expression in the professor's eyes startled him.

"Ah, doesn't your food look good, Hiro-san? I see you ordered the eel after all. Maybe you should eat something?"

As if this was a cue, the others at the table began to fall to their meals, conversation quickly becoming much more subdued.

Hiroki sighed and picked up his chopsticks. Although he still felt irritated there was something in Nowaki's manner that soothed him. He took a few halfhearted bites and then began pushing his food around his plate with his chopsticks, muddying the aesthetic display of the cuisine.

As he continued to look down at his plate, Hiroki crinkled his nose. He wasn't at all interested in his meal. He was, however, finding himself increasingly engaged by his false partner.

"I'm curious, Nowaki, how do you manage to put up with all the shit you have to deal with and remain such an incredibly even person? Me, even the littlest thing gets under my skin and seems to fester there," as Hiroki asked this he turned and looked back down the table towards Akihiko.

"Hiro-san, look at me please," Nowaki pleaded, though his voice was calm. He concerned about the effects of the stress of the evening, the alcohol, and the obviously painful feelings that Hiro-san had for Usami. In Hiro-san's current state, Nowaki feared the professor might soon say something he regretted.

What?" Hiroki reluctantly turned his eyes away from Akihiko's curious lavender stare.

Nowaki looked at the young academic. His eyes filled with empathy for his false partner. "I would hardly consider what you have been feeling as a little thing." Nowaki looked up over the professor's head as he said this, his eyes narrowed as he stared down at Akihiko.

Seeing the other man's profound displeasure with him, Akihiko's eyes widened and a door that he'd long kept shut in his mind suddenly unlocked and began to creak open.

Hiroki missed this exchange as, at Nowaki's pointed words, he'd dropped his head in consternation. He was once again stunned that this man he'd just met seemed to be able to see him so much more clearly than the one he'd known since childhood.

"Nowaki," Hiroki said quietly.

"Hmmmm," Nowaki looked down questioningly, though it was hard for him to tear his eyes away from Akihiko. Almost as hard as it was not to get up and physically tear into the author himself for being so oblivious to Hiro-san's love.

Nowaki was startled when Hiroki reached over, pulled him by the lapels, and caught his mouth unexpectedly in a deep and probing kiss.

Aikawa let out the faintest of squees and melted, so glad she'd traded with Isaka for this front row seat of the Boy's Love Theater. Akihiko blanched, Isaka smirked, and Takahiro continued eating, unaware of the commotion occurring around him: his focus on his meal. That was, at least until he, like everyone else at the table heard Hiroki's next words, then his chopsticks clattered to his plate.

"I think we should fuck soon," Hiroki growled as soon as he'd broken the kiss.

Nowaki's shocked eyes stared at his client.

This was _very_ bad.

The escort had hoped that by the pair of them attending the dinner it might make the author jealous, but the silver-haired scribe was obviously as obtuse as the man Usami himself was pursuing. Truthfully, also, Nowaki had wanted to linger in Hiro-san's presence, intuiting otherwise, he would have simply ended up taking the professor home. Likely then too, Matsuo would have lined him up with another last-minute client since he'd finished early.

Cursing himself , Nowaki was ashamed he'd allowed his own longing to interfere with his professionalism: the first and most important rule was always to fulfill the client's desires. He had overridden this back at the reception when Hiro-san had wanted to "break up" and now the professor was losing tremendous face because of his selfish disobedience.

"Hiroki," Akihiko's voice was sharp and filled with displeasure, "Your behavior is less than appropriate."

At this reprimand, Hiroki gave a loud snort and stood up from the table. His body wavered slightly in response to the sudden movement. "Who the hell are you to make any decrees about behavior, Akihiko?"

Akihiko looked at his friend with stunned eyes and then glanced uncomfortably at Takahiro.

Hiroki's dark gaze continued to challenge. "Exactly, you hypocritical son of a….

Mpmmmhh!" Hiroki's were cut short. Nowaki had stood up quickly following his movements. The escort grabbed his inebriated professor and spun him around quickly, capturing the young scholar's mouth in a crushing kiss that left Hiroki breathless.

When their lip's parted Nowaki leaned over and whispered into Hiroki's ear so quietly no one else could overhear.

"If you're quiet and mind me, Hiro-san, I'll take you home and fuck you so you'll never forget it."

The escort took the stunned-silent professor's arm and then offered the flabbergasted diners a low bow of apology.

"So sorry gentlemen… and lady," Nowaki tone was far more pleasant than he felt. "I am afraid my lovely professor is feeling a bit overtaxed and suddenly unwell. I think I'd best get him home and put him to bed." He smiled in particular at Aikawa who blushed crimson at the lewd thoughts his words conjured.

"Right, Hiro-san?" Nowaki asked, not unkindly.

"Ah… yes.. please forgive me… M-must have been something I ate at the reception," Hiroki sputtered. The way the escort had whispered those words had set his lower half on fire.

"So nice to have made your acquaintance." Nowaki nodded curtly to the three men still seated as he began to half pull, half carry Hiroki out of the room.

As soon as Hiroki and Nowaki had left, everyone at the table breathed a sigh, each for a different reason.

Aikawa looked at Akihiko. She could tell her sensei was distressed and she needed to lighten the mood.

"Now if you wrote what happens with those two next, Sensei…" she smiled wickedly, "That would be a book of yours that I would actually buy."

"Kamijou-san has always been a rather passionate sort," Takahiro offered uncomfortably, then he added amicably, "I did like his companion though; he seemed like a decent fellow."

"Oh hush, Takahiro," Akihiko muttered.

All three diners looked at Akihiko in shock. He'd never spoken to Takahiro in this manner before.

Isaka opened his mouth but shut it quickly when Akihiko growled, "And don't even think about saying anything Ryuichiro." The author looked at his remaining companions, "I'm going out for a smoke. Please continue without me."

"But this is a smoking room, _Sensei_," Isaka offered despite Akihiko's warning. He used the word "sensei" in such a manner as to communicate his displeasure at the younger Usami's direction.

"I said, I am going out to smoke," Akihiko repeated, more softly this time, the temperature in the room dropping about ten degrees at his tone. The author pushed himself solemnly up from the table and exited the room, leaving his guests gazing at each other with looks of startled wonder.

After a moment Takahiro recovered. Reaching over next to Akihiko place at the table, he picked up the pack of cigarettes and the lighter Akihiko had left behind.

"I wonder how he's going to smoke without these?" the naïve man speculated.

His words broke the spell that had held the others. Aikawa and Isaka looked at each other, rolled their eyes, and quietly fell to eating.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading and for all the wonderful alerts and favorites.<strong>


	10. Chapter 10: I'm Cold

**The Escort**

**Chapter Ten: I'm Cold**

* * *

><p>Outside the restaurant Hiroki and Nowaki waited for their car.<p>

It seemed that the fresh air was helping Hiro-san, though he was still obviously snockered. Unfortunately with even just the littlest bit of clarity also came a tremendous amount of regret.

"I can't believe I said we should fuck in front of everyone," Hiroki hiccuped.

Nowaki stood beside the professor studying him intently. "Given the supposed status of our 'relationship,' Hiro-san, it wasn't that shocking a sentiment to express."

Hiroki shook his head, though this motion set him slightly off balance. "I should have never said those things, especially to Akihiko."

"In vino veritas," Nowaki sighed. "Maybe you told him something that you needed to say, Hiro-san, or that he needed to hear."

"God damn it, Nowaki! I have just made a complete idiot of myself! Must you try and put positive spin on everything?

"And don't comment on matters that you don't know anything about!" Hiroki barked roughly. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest against both his feelings of intense vulnerability and the cold of the night air.

These words bit the escort deeply. Nowaki didn't say anything in response, he just stood there.

_It's true. I am the outsider here._ Despite the intense feelings Hiro-san stirred in him.

Once again Nowaki felt convicted for not taking care of his client adequately. "Of course, you're correct Kamijou-san," he offered contritely at last. "I am terribly sorry.

At the tone and shift in address, Hiroki looked up at the escort. He'd observed Nowaki wince away from his words as he'd said them.

While Hiroki was still mad that they'd come out to the dinner to start with, he knew also that it wasn't Nowaki he was really upset with at all. And his escort had really handled himself quite admirably, outside the "break up" disobedience, actually, given the cast of characters he'd had to deal with that night…

_Including me._

Once again the professor was astounded by his never ending ability to fuck things up.

"Nowaki…" Hiroki's words were not quite as clear now, the alcohol had continued to course its way through his system. "I am a bit of an ass when I drink… If you haven't noticed."

"Do you remember much the next morning after you overindulge in drink, Kamijou-san?" Nowaki asked.

"Usually barely anything," Hiroki growled, surprising himself with his honesty. This was not the kind of thing one should tell almost a complete stranger. "Why?"

"Then, yes, Kamijou–san. You are an ass when you drink." Nowaki's smile was coming back hesitantly.

The escort's humorous response eased Hiroki.

"Nowaki…" Hiroki felt himself compelled to reconcile with the other man, despite the disaster of their evening. "You can keep calling me Hiro-san… If you like… For some reason, it suits you." Hiroki bit off the end of his sentence as his teeth started to chatter.

"I would say the same to you, Hiro-san," Nowaki slipped naturally back in to the new/old appellation.

Hiroki smiled wryly at this. Then his smile faded and he put his hand to his forehead. A slight wave of dizziness had caught him and Hiroki realized he really should have eaten something earlier. He closed his eyes against the sensation and was startled to feel, moments later, heavy warmth surround him.

Nowaki had noticed Hiroki's shivering. He had taken off his coat and now draped it over his date's broad shoulders.

Hiroki opened his eyes and looked wonderingly down at the jacket. Despite the blessed heat of it, he raised one of his hands to push it off.

"What's this? He asked peevishly. "Nowaki, I don't need this: I am not some delicate damsel," Hiroki started to turn towards the escort as he said this, the motion sett him slightly off balance.

The professor was shocked to feel Nowaki move up behind him and wrap long arms around him from the back, thwarting his efforts to shrug out of the coat. He resisted just briefly, then feeling dizzy again, Hiroki gave in and instead collapsed back.

Hiroki found himself overwhelmed by the heat of Nowaki's body, the solidity of the tall youth against him in his current state of multi-layered instability, the comforting sensation of strong arms.

"Hiro-san, you're cold," Nowaki said simply, tightening his embrace just slightly the moment he felt the professor give in.

Hiroki couldn't move and he couldn't believe he was allowing himself to be held like this, by another man he hardly knew, an escort no less, in front of a high-class restaurant, in public of all places.

_I don't want this at all._

This is what he told himself, but on a much deeper level, Hiroki's heart longed for just exactly this. Not the situation of course, but the sense of encompassing comfort, of attendance, of the strength that Nowaki was somehow communicating to him through his enveloping touch.

Hiroki damned himself for being so fragile… and so drunk.

Otherwise he would have never allowed himself to do what he did, which was suddenly to relax further into Nowaki's arms. He closed his eyes against the dizzying lights of the city.

"You're right Nowaki, I'm cold," Hiroki quietly admitted. He was grateful Nowaki was behind him. It saved him that last shattering blow: that the escort couldn't see the tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes.

* * *

><p>Akihiko had left his VIP room, only to realize, cursing, a few minutes later he'd left his nicotine gear at the table.<p>

Fortunately he'd been able to bum a fag and a light from the maître de and was now standing just outside the restaurant's entrance. He'd been watching Hiroki and his new beau from a distance for some time.

Some might say he was spying, but Akihiko would counter he was merely observing.

_Besides, I'm hardly trying not to be seen._ Not that this mattered; Hiroki and Kusama were obviously so wrapped up in each other they were oblivious to everything else around them.

This shocked Akihiko.

His best friend was so private he would have never expected Hiroki to be agreeable to such a public display of affection. But then Hiroki had surprised him on numerous levels that evening already.

It had started with the introduction.

Akihiko had known Hiroki loved his writing, but even since they were children he'd always thought of it as a rather academic love, a puzzle of syntax that needed to be solved, equations of theme and subtexts, but the way that he'd spoken of the work tonight pointed to something much deeper.

This was also the first time he'd heard Hiroki speak professionally, not some discussion of books taking place in one of their flats or over the table in some crowded coffee shop.

Akihiko had been stunned by Hiroki's polish, by his eloquence.

So different from the terse, reticent, often irritated manner he was accustomed to. It had affected him profoundly to realize in their friendship, that while he had never denied Hiroki's complexity, or his brilliance, he had just suddenly realized despite this, that he'd vastly underestimated them.

Beyond this unexpected twist, however, there was also the issue of the new person in his best friend's life.

Akihiko had almost convinced himself that Hiroki's beau didn't really existed. But there he was tonight in the flesh and suddenly, given Kusama's fierce possessiveness, the reason for Hiroki's recent inaccessibility had become quite obvious.

Seeing them at the reception, listening to them at dinner, Akihiko had felt his disconcertion rising: he was perplexed by this odd couple.

For one thing Kusama, while plainly intelligent, was also very clearly nowhere near as educated as Hiroki. And Kusama's manner, though relatively polished, was obviously one recently acquired… not naturally born into.

Akihiko was well aware, living between England and Japan as he had, that his sensitivity to issues of blood, station, and status were heightened.

_But seriously, why did Hiroki chose someone so obviously beneath him? What could they possibly have in common, outside of course of the obvious sexual connection? _

There was little doubt in Akihiko's mind that the tall youth was an excellent fuck: Kusama's sheer physicality and the sexual energy he exuded blatant, almost primal. For someone as reserved as Hiroki, Akihiko supposed that this must offer relief from his own internal constraints.

However, after witnessing the way the tall youth manually handled his friend… that scene at the reception, his glimpse of them in the hall… the way Kusama had removed Hiroki from the table…The author found himself wondering about his friend's safety.

Akihiko knew Hiroki was strong and physically capable, but Kusama was so much bigger and obviously possessive.

But Hiroki seemed content, not at all cowed.

_He must be getting something he needs out of their arrangement._

Then Akihiko thought about poor, plain Takahiro waiting there so cluelessly at the table.

_Is that really so different? _This thought disturbed Akihiko on levels he found he didn't wish to consider.

_Still,_ the author told himself, _Hiroki should be with someone more naturally suited to him…_

_Someone more like_…

Akihiko's lips were drawn into a tight line around his cigarette when he realized he'd been about to say "me."

His silvered brow furrowed as uncomfortable memories surfaced. He wondered again as he often had, if Hiroki suspected that he knew about…

_We never spoke of it._

_Perhaps I should have… But his pride… What would Hiroki have done?_

Remembering that night, a wave of shame washed over Akihiko. He damned his bastard half-brother again for always taking what should have belonged to him and himself for not handling things differently after it had happened.

Akihiko found himself considering, and not for the first time, if Haru hadn't done what he had, if he might have ever acted on the adolescent feelings he'd had for his best friend.

Then he remembered again the one time that he and Hiroki had been together sexually: the debacle brought on at Hiroki's suggestion a little over a year ago.

Behind the blindfold he'd been wearing as part of the game they were playing, Akihiko had tried to envision Takahiro, but hearing Hiroki's gasping breath, all he could really see were the visions of that night again.

He'd called on Takahiro's name to save him from the memories, and he had in a way. Akihiko realized later, how awful that was: he'd betrayed Hiroki yet again, despite the fact that what they had done was supposed to be a bit of a lark…

_Some drunken fun between boys after all. _

He'd been so ashamed he'd asked Hiroki to leave.

_What did that do to his pride, Akihiko?_

Akihiko had anguished for days afterwards about this, wondering if he was really any better than his brother.

Of course after that, he and Hiroki had withdrawn from each other for a time but then somehow things resumed as they always did between them. He'd locked all that new unpleasantness away with the old in the closet he'd labeled "Hiroki" and had conveniently left it there.

_Until tonight that is…_ When the door had cracked open again.

Looking at Kusama standing there now with his back to him, his arms wrapped so unapologetically around Hiroki, Akihiko had the disquieting realization that for all his snobbery, he was jealous.

And if he was completely honest with himself, he also understood now that he had never really expected Hiroki to express an interest in anyone for more than a night, a week or two at the most.

_That Shinoda thing of course had dragged on a bit longer than I expected._

"Usagi!" Akihiko heard the usually treasured voice call out behind him, however, as it roused him from his contemplations tonight he suddenly felt it grate against all the hidden rawness he'd just found.

Akihiko turned and was greeted by Takahiro's mild, sweet smiling face.

"Ah… Usagi, so glad I found you," Takahiro looked at the almost gone smoke in his friend's fingers and blushed.

"I suppose I should have listened to Aikawa-san and Isaka-san. They said I should just leave you to yourself… but I told them, 'how's he going to smoke without his cigarettes?'"

"I managed to bum one." Akihiko dropped the smoldering butt on the ground and crushed it out with his foot, knowing the door man would sweep it up without complaint the moment he stepped back into the restaurant.

"So I see." Takahiro's gentle face revealed his disappointment that he'd not been a bigger help.

Akihiko smiled kindly at the dear man, though his heart was not in it. He kept his cultured voice smooth, "Still, what a wonderful friend to have been so thoughtful… particularly since I know you consider it rather a vice."

Takahiro's cheeks blushed further with pleasure at his friend's words.

After taking his pack and his lighter from Takahiro, Akihiko clasped his arm around his unrequited's shoulder. Tonight though, having the man he'd been so enamored of for so long under his arm, the embrace felt hollow.

"Why don't we go back in and see about finishing that dinner. Besides, I suddenly feel like I need another drink."

"Sure, Usagi!" Takahiro beamed.

As they made their way back into the restaurant, Akihiko turned for one last look over his shoulder and saw that his friend's car had arrived. He watched Kusama open the door and assist a strangely docile Hiroki in.

Re-entering the eatery, Takahiro chirping cheerfully about some unimportant nonsense alongside him, Akihiko found himself acutely aware that the door to the closet named Hiroki that he'd kept so skillfully locked all these years had this night not just cracked, but had finally been jarred fully open.

An avalanche of hidden things was spilling out. And Akihiko was suddenly concerned that the sheer mass of them might crush him.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading and all the wonderful reviews!<strong>


	11. Chapter 11: Stars and Rockets

**The Escort**

**Chapter Eleven: Stars and Rockets**

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><p>Hiroki and Nowaki arrived back at Hiroki's flat after another silent ride.<p>

Getting out of the vehicle, Hiroki was dizzy and a little wobbly, so he unhappily allowed Nowaki to help him out of the car and back to his apartment.

Once the pair entered the professor's abode, Nowaki assisted Hiroki in taking off his coat. After Hiroki tried to kick off his shoes and almost toppled over, Nowaki directed him to lean against the wall; the escort bent down and helped Hiroki out of his shoes.

When he stood up Nowaki, was startled to feel arms suddenly wrapped around his neck and his mouth captured in a fierce and probing kiss.

As he opened himself to Hiro-san, Nowaki felt his flesh rapidly heating. They exchanged a volley of tongues and Nowaki let out a surprised grunt when he felt Hiroki's hand drift down and strong fingers clutch at his cock through his jeans.

As Hiroki's sensitive digits realized the escort's length, he pulled free from their kiss with a look of surprise on his face.

"Damn, Nowaki..." Hiroki panted. His hand began kneading Nowaki's rapidly responding member through the denim. His liquored breath was hot in Nowaki's ear as he growled, "Does your offer to fuck me still stand?"

Nowaki had sensed the professor's resistance he first time he'd touched him. But then after that, he had also felt Hiro-san's ache, his deep, pulsing need, and the strength of this had moved him profoundly.

Gazing deeply into dark, whiskey-bright eyes, Nowaki's mind drew back to the moment when Hiroki had finally relaxed into his arms outside the restaurant. Hiro-san had seemed to fit into his long-armed embrace perfectly. The escort couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so content.

Nowaki knew that he wanted this man. He turned his head, his own voice made husky by his lust.

"I would love to fuck you Hiro-san…" Nowaki whispered back, "But not tonight."

It made Nowaki's heart ache to see the question this sparked in Hiroki's eyes. The hand on his cock immediately stopped its attentions.

"Why the hell not?" Hiroki demanded. "I thought that was your job!"

This truth falling from Hiroki's mouth pained the escort deeply. It was his profession, but this was not the way Nowaki wanted Hiro-san to experience him. Despite how much his own hunger had been stirred, Nowaki gently pulled Hiroki's stilled hand off his filling cock.

"You're right, but you're also a little drunk, Hiro-san, and I don't want us to do anything that you'll wake up regretting tomorrow."

Nowaki could see from Hiroki's expression that his explanation still carried the weight of rejection. The escort lifted the hand he was still holding and placed it over his own heart. He wondered if Hiroki could feel how fast it was beating.

_No one else has ever made it race like this. _Lifting his other hand, Nowaki gently brushed an alcohol-pinked cheek.

He stifled a sigh when Hiroki immediately shied away from this touch.

Nowaki hesitated a moment, then reached forward and gently took the professor's chin in his hand and turned Hiroki's face back towards him. He waited for the dark gaze to reluctantly return to him. Leaning in, Nowaki pressed a sweet kiss against tight, resistant lips.

"Hiro-san," Nowaki's voice was as warm as his flesh, "When I fuck you, I want the only intoxicant in your system to be me."

Even in his inebriated state, Nowaki's words shocked Hiroki.

The escort could see the professor struggle as he tried to decide if his words were earnest. He saw the fearful mistrust in the other man's eyes. Then he watched with a sense of sad relief as Hiroki slumped a bit: the anger left Hiroki only to be replaced with an even greater seeming posture of grief.

"Come on, Hiro-san," Nowaki offered gently. "Let me make you some tea." He took Hiroki's arm and directed him out into the main room. Hiroki allowed himself to be guided. He collapsed to the floor next to the low table in his front room.

Nowaki watched the man uncomfortably settle before moving into the kitchen and beginning to rummage around in the cupboards looking for tea and cups. As he prepared the tea, the escort observed his date carefully. Hiroki, for the most part, spent this time silent and still; his gaze studiously focused on the clasped hands in his lap.

Through his line of work Nowaki had become well-acquainted with drunkenness in all its various forms. As he moved about the kitchen he tried to ascertain Hiroki's particular sequence. If he'd been forced to speculate, he would have guessed the first stage for Hiro-san would be verbal or his truth stage, when the normally tight lipped professor's mouth was suddenly loosened. The second stage would lean to anger, given the way that Hiroki had spoken to his best friend at the dinner. And third phase…

_Regretful contemplation, which is where Hiro-san seems to be right now._

Nowaki wasn't far off in his assessment: as Hiroki sat there his thoughts churned relentlessly.

_I almost revealed myself tonight… revealed Akihiko too. _

Actually, it was rather a miracle that this hadn't happened before. After all, how many times had he been unconsciously spurned by Akihiko, his friend of fourteen years, and how long could he expect himself to continue to endure?

Hiroki's drunken mind showed remarkable agility as it recounted all the disastrous elements of the evening and then went on to flash on a multitude of other painful and embarrassing moments of terrible waiting and wanting. Hiroki was aware, drifting through this mortifying chronology that, if he wasn't careful, there were other, more disturbing memories he might soon find himself stumbling across.

Hot tears welled in his eyes, but he made no moved to wipe them away.

Pulling his mind back into the present didn't helped much either. Especially considering he'd just suffered the indignity of being sexually rejected by a man who fucked people for a living and who, in fact, he had paid to be with him that evening.

_Though that was just as a date, not as a fuck..._

Hiroki glanced up at Nowaki. His glossy dark head was bowed as he focused on pouring the tea.

_Leave it to me to be assigned the world's first responsible prostitute._

As much as Hiroki ached to be pounded into oblivion, he also knew Nowaki was right; he would hate himself in the morning, even more than he did now, if he allowed himself to engage in such debauched behavior.

Hiroki dropped his eyes as his dizziness increased. His stomach, which had not felt good to begin with that evening, began to ache even more painfully. This added bit of discomfort pushed the waiting tears over the ledges of his eyes. Hiroki watched miserably as the heavy drops fell, striking the clasped hands he held in his lap.

"Here, Hiro-san, try this," Hiroki heard a kind voice above him. "It might make you feel a bit better."

Hiroki lifted his hand towards the voice without raising his eyes, not wanting to add to his already crushing sense of humiliation by having a stranger see his self-pitying tears. He wondered if there'd ever been a time when he'd been more pathetic.

A too vivid memory popped into his mind and Hiroki realized he certainly had.

This unexpected recollection caused him to start, knocking free the loosely grasped mug Nowaki was passing over. The cup fell and hit the edge of the low table. Steaming tea flew.

Some of it hit the hand still in Hiroki's lap, some soaked through his jeans scalding him. But what was even more painful was that the majority of it spilled onto the table, drenching his notes and Akihiko's novel that lay open, face down, on the table's surface.

"Fuck!" Hiroki hissed.

"Hiro-san are you alright? I'm so sorry, I thought you had it. Are you burned?" Nowaki voice was laden with concern and contrition.

"Forget about me! I'm fine!" Hiroki barked.

_Outside of being a clumsy, fucking moron._

"But goddamn it, look at my fucking notes!" Long fingers picked up the novel. "And Akihiko's book," Hiroki added sadly.

Nowaki dashed into the kitchen. Grabbing a hand-towel he turned to head back to the table.

Hiroki shouted, "Just toss it to me, quick!"

The ink from his handwritten notes was starting to blur and he felt himself panic. Hiroki damned his obsessive ways, wishing he'd just immediately typed his research into the computer. Fortunately, his laptop was far enough away none of the spilled tea had gotten to it.

Despite the fact it felt ill-mannered, Nowaki did as directed and launched the towel. The balled fabric fell just in front of Hiroki. The professor grabbed it and started furiously mopping up his papers. Spreading them out so they would dry and not stick to each other.

Once this was done, he looked at Akihiko's book again. It was a lost cause: he knew the pages would be badly warped by the moisture.

It was like losing the man in yet one more minute way.

"Hiro-san, your hand…" Nowaki had caught up with his fabric missile.

Glancing down, Hiroki saw a brilliant-red scald mark spreading over the back of his hand. He was so worried about his papers and the book, that after the first jolt of pain he'd completely forgotten about it. His eyes shifted between Akihiko's novel and his hand, then up at Nowaki.

He was so overwhelmed his expression was completely unguarded. Nowaki saw the undisguised heart of the man before him.

_That face, that beautiful, sad face, those brilliant, haunted eyes_...

It was even more powerful than what he'd imagined earlier that evening, while telling of their first, fabricated meeting.

Nowaki had felt pulled to this man since the moment they'd met. A word rose to his mind, the clarity and sharpness of it pierced him: _Love_. He understood in an instant that he would never anticipate feeling this ever again, not for anyone else.

Fixing his eyes on Nowaki, Hiroki saw something in the escort's stunned gaze and the depths of it frightened him. Perhaps this was partly because in those astounding blue pools, he saw himself reflected in no small way.

Hiroki looked away quickly.

He was surprised to feel Nowaki take his undamaged hand and pull him to his feet.

"Come on, Hiro-san" Nowaki said kindly, once he was standing. He began pulling Hiroki behind him into the apartment's small bathroom.

"What are you doing?"

"You're hurt, Hiro-san."

Hiroki was relieved the tall youth had no idea how many levels that statement functioned on in this moment. He wanted to pull back, to resist, but the rapid movement had accelerated the unease in his gut and the starred-spinning of his alcohol-fevered head.

Nowaki turned on the cold tap, took Hiroki's scalded hand by the wrist, and held it under the frigid water. "Hold still, Hiro-san."

Hiroki hissed at the water's initial icy bite against his burned flesh, but he kept his hand there. Once he was satisfied the professor would stay, Nowaki opened the medicine cabinet to see if he could locate any burn cream. While he was busy looking, A sudden wave of nausea rolled over his woozy patient.

"Oh good fuck," Hiroki exclaimed tiredly, before grasping the tap with his burned hand, the edge of the vanity with his other, and emptying the liquid contents of his rebelling stomach into the sink.

Once his guts had stopped heaving, Hiroki rested his forehead against the tender surface of his burned hand.

"Just brilliant," he murmured in quiet disgust with himself.

_Could this evening possibly get any more humiliating? _A warm hand was gently placed between his shoulder blades and rubbed a slow, soothing circle.

That Nowaki had seen him so compromised and offered him this tender touch after how rude he had been was too much. Hiroki gasped and his shoulders shook with an unexpected sob, which just turned into another bout of retching.

Once this latest indignity ended, Hiroki rinsed his mouth from the running tap and straightened himself. He was conscious of the fact Nowaki's hand never left his back. Then he felt the escort's hand move and in an instant, two large strong hands were on his shoulders tuning him around slowly.

Hiroki blinked. It took him a few minutes to register that these same hands were now lifting the bottom of his sweater up.

"What in the hell are you doing, Nowaki?" Hiroki croaked. His throat still burned from the rancid alcohol that had just traveled back up it.

"You soiled your shirt," Nowaki offered this without raising his gaze from the hem of Hiroki's sweater, "and I am putting you to bed.

"The best thing for you right now, I think, is to try and sleep this off."

"I can put myself to bed," Hiroki protested, although he suddenly felt so exhausted he could barely stay upright and Nowaki's warm ministering hands were heart-breakingly comforting.

"I am sure you can, Hiro-san," Nowaki soothed, but his hands did not stop their motions and the escort noticed too that, despite his words, Hiro-san just stood there passively and allowed him to continue, even raising his arms eventually.

The escort slipped the sweater up over Hiroki's broad shoulders and pulled it off, adding a new level of disarray to his wild head. As the soft knit rose to reveal the young professor's physique, Nowaki noted with appreciation the firmness of the build that had lain hidden beneath it.

_Kamijou-san was right though... Hiro-san is a bit on the thin side._

Nowaki took the burn cream out of the cabinet behind Hiroki, once the shirt was off, and carefully rubbed the ointment onto the scalded skin.

"Better?" Nowaki asked as he studied the burn. "I don't think it's going to blister."

Hiroki just nodded, at a loss for words. The gentle stroking of his hand had been arousing.

"Hey!" Hiroki was startled back into language when he suddenly felt Nowaki's hands on the band of his jeans; his buckle, button, and zippers expertly undone in a matter of moments.

"Look, you spilled tea on your legs also and I want to make sure you're okay." Nowaki's voice was calm. He kept his expression flat, even though he noticed as he slid Hiroki's jeans down, that the professor was getting hard.

Hiroki felt his eyes go wide and his cheeks flush at the feel of the denim gathering around his ankles.

"See you have some small burns here too." Nowaki traced a long, warm finger around several bright pink spots on Hiroki's thigh. He pretended not to notice that when his finger touched the skin, Hiroki's cock started.

Taking the burn cream again, Nowaki knelt down. He felt a shaky hand set on his shoulder and understanding the motion, Nowaki reached down and helped Hiroki step completely out of his pants. Then Nowaki squeezed some of the ointment onto his hand and began to massage it into the thigh where all of the small scalds were.

Hiroki kept his one hand on Nowaki's shoulder, the other he braced against the edge of the sink as he leaned back against it. The skilled hand kneading his flesh caused his cock to quicken in a way that soon could not be ignored.

"Hiro-san..," Nowaki's eyes widened as he looked up from his ministering to see the heavy erection arching the fabric of Hiroki's shorts.

"I just need to go to bed, Nowaki. I'll be fine," Hiroki grumbled, blushing even darker.

However, Hiroki found himself moving his hand off Nowaki's shoulder and grabbing the counter with it for balance when he felt the escort's long fingers slip beneath the band of his boxers and pull his shorts carefully over his jutting shaft. At this action his hips bucked forward slightly and he gasped.

Nowaki smiled up, his blue eyes held a slight twinkle. "In my professional opinion, Hiro-san, you're not going to be able to rest well until we fix this as well."

"No, don't Nowa…," Hiroki let his dizzied head drop back as he felt a hot hand cup his sac and an even hotter mouth slip over the tip of his hardened cock. In a matter of seconds, Nowaki's amazing oral skills had him seeing stars that had nothing to do with his drunkenness.

Hiroki's heavy breaths soon filled the space of the small bathroom. He leaned back further against the vanity for support as a large hand pushed one of his thighs, spreading his legs, opening him wider. Reaching out, Hiroki ran a hand of his own through Nowaki's thick raven hair, clutching it fiercely as he felt the escort relax his throat and pull all his turgid cock into it. Despite feeling unbalanced, Hiroki couldn't help but pulse his hips into such a willing mouth.

Then Nowaki grabbed angular hipbones and pushed Hiroki back against the sink, holding him firmly in place. Growls of wanton pleasure were joined by a cacophony of wet sucks and smacking sounds as Nowaki bobbed his head, his athletic tongue and agile mouth bringing Hiroki to the edge of an engulfing climax.

Pulling off at the last moment, Nowaki covered Hiroki's cock with one of his hands and pumped vigorously. As soon as he felt the spasms of relief pulsing the slick flesh in his hand, he shifted his grasp to hold the tender tip, capturing its spend.

Once assured that Hiro-san's climax was complete, Nowaki stood and ran his sticky hand under the still running tap. He then turned on the hot water, grabbed a cloth from the edge of the sink and wet it. Nowaki went to work efficiently washing the tight belly and lean thighs still trembling from the power of their release.

Once he was finished with these ablutions, Nowaki grasped Hiroki's wrists gently and pulled him forward.

"Come on, Hiro-san," Nowaki murmured as if he were speaking to a child.

Hiroki's sex-sated eyes flashed at this tone and he grunted, irritated. This just made Nowaki chuckle however, especially when, as he moved forward, Hiroki had to lean against him to stay upright.

Nowaki helped Hiroki into his book-strewn bedroom. He flipped on the light as they made their way over to the narrow bed. Hiroki collapsed immediately onto his unmade futon. The escort bent and pulled the sleep-tossed sheets into a slightly better semblance of order and arranged them over Hiroki's bare form.

Nowaki had started to straighten when he suddenly felt a strong grip around one of his wrists, holding him.

"N-Nowaki…" Hiroki whispered, not looking up.

"Yes?"

"Would you… Would you stay with me… Just until I fall asleep?" Hiroki's low voice was hesitant, his cheeks pinking with a fresh blush.

Nowaki looked at the clock on the bedside table. "Just let me make a quick call, Hiro-san, and then I promise, I'll come back and sit with you."

Hiroki closed his eyes. He said nothing, but nodded just slightly and released Nowaki's wrist.

Nowaki turned the small bedside lamp on and flipped the bright overhead light off. He went out into the other room, a frown on his handsome face as he considered his options: Hiro-san had paid for the evening, but not the entire night and he'd already told his client at the reception he would give him his money back.

_If I call Matsuo's car and leave now, I could come back later._ Nowaki glanced at the professor's keys, sitting on the stand just inside the apartment's entry.

But Hiro-san needed him now and, given what he'd witnessed that night, Nowaki couldn't imagine how the man would react if he thought he'd been abandoned.

_Or maybe I can, and that's what I'm afraid of..._

If he stayed, he would still need to call and let the driver know. Matsuo would then expect his client to pay for the extended hours. Nowaki had enough cash saved he could cover it, though it would eat into the extra money he usually paid each month to help keep the ridiculous interest fees he was being charged down.

Nowaki made his decision. He called his pimp.

Matsuo answered the phone. "Are you done Kusama? I have a repeat customer of yours that has asked if you were available for a midnight get-together."

"Sorry, Matsuo," Nowaki said calmly, "This client has asked me to stay the night. That was what I was calling to tell you."

"Such a persuasive boy, Kusama. Do I sense another regular in the works? Heh. It's always the ones that seem the most uptight that end up paying off big once you get them into it.

"Okay, I'll see if I can find another boy to send. You're so popular these days, I'm not sure I'm ever going to be able to bring myself to let you go," Matsou's greasy voice purred.

"We had a deal, Matsuo-san."

"Yeah, yeah," the pimp did not sound the least bit concerned by Nowaki's stern tone.

"Look, you bring the cut from tonight to my office tomorrow. I have had a few calls from different people about dates for you and I want to discuss which engagements you'll be taking.

"In the meantime I'll call the car and tell them to come pick you up in the morning"

"No need…" Nowaki grimaced, realizing he'd answered too quickly.

"What do you mean no need, Kusama? You know the rules… Are you trying to pull something here?" Matsuo asked suspiciously.

"No, Matsuo-san, it's just this client's place is only about a mile from my house. So, I thought I'd just walk home after. You know… get some exercise." Nowaki hoped Matsuo would accept this reasoning.

Matsuo seemed to consider this a moment. "Okay, but I want my cash… All of it… _On time_ tomorrow."

"Yes boss."

"Good boy." Matsuo hung up.

A few minutes later Nowaki came back into Hiroki's room, bearing a glass of water and some analgesic. He was aware that a pair of dark eyes were on him the instant he stepped through the door. Though they sparked for just briefly before growing sleep-hazy again, Nowaki knew what he'd seen in that flash was relief.

"Here, Hiro-san take these. It might help you not quite feel so bad when you wake up in the morning."

Hiroki raised himself up and took the offering gratefully, knowing that Nowaki was right. Afterwards he lay back down again. He stiffened slightly when, a moment later, Nowaki joined him in the narrow futon. Nowaki wrapped a long arm around him; and pulled him tightly against his lean, lanky frame.

After a few minutes, Hiroki allowed himself to relax into the heat of the other man's body.

"Everything okay?" Hiroki asked after a stretch of silence.

"Huh?"

"Your phone call… Not, that it's any of my business."

"Oh," Nowaki kept his tone nonchalant. "I just had to tell the service's car, since I'm staying a bit longer."

There was another lengthy silence between the two men, then Hiroki said in an unusually soft voice, heavy with apology, "Thank you, Nowaki."

Nowaki smiled into the back of Hiro-san's neck and just pulled the professor into him a little bit tighter.

* * *

><p>After about thirty minutes, once he was assured that Hiroki was fully asleep, Nowaki rose and went out into the apartment again.<p>

Nowaki cleaned the sink in the bathroom thoroughly. He rinsed the spots on Hiroki's sweater and laid it out to dry. It would still likely need to go to the cleaners later. He picked the professor's jeans up off the floor and gathered a few other things from the hamper in the bathroom and started a load of wash once he'd located the closet with the compact-efficiency washer in it.

The escort's stomach growled then: with all the commotion, Nowaki had never had the chance to eat his dinner.

He padded out into the apartment's main room and headed towards the kitchen wondering if Hiro-san might have anything he could eat. He figured he could slip out early tomorrow before the man woke and replace it.

On the way, he stooped and picked up the damp dishtowel that was still sitting on the floor next to Hiroki's low table. Nowaki carried it with him into the kitchen, thinking he would rinse it out there, wondering if the tea and the running ink had already, irrevocably stained it.

Nowaki didn't know it, but the towel was from a set that Hiroki's mother had sent him, along with the panda clock, when he had first left home. Turning on the tap, Nowaki spread the towel out. He'd grabbed it so quickly when the tea had spilled he hadn't noticed that it was decorated.

A soft smile stole over the escort's lips and a light glowed deep in his blue eyes the moment Nowaki noticed the design on the towel: it was a couple of cute panda astronauts and a rocket ship.

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><p><strong>I'd forgotten how much I liked this story and how much fun AU canon tweaking is... <strong>

**I am happy that I could twist this world so that a rocket (of sorts) could still fall at Hiroki's feet, even if it was on a towel... that Nowaki could see his beloved's sad face... and that he could pull Hiroki out of his seat and off after him into his healing... You might have noticed the "stay with me until I fall asleep" bit from the canon as well. **

**Simple mind, simple pleasures...**

**Thank you all for reading and for the wonderful reviews. I have been unwell recently, thus all the updates, occupying myself while I'm at home. Anyway, your notes lift my spirits. **


	12. Chapter 12: Confession

**The Escort**

**Chapter Twelve: Confessions**

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><p>After eating something and cleaning up a few more things, Nowaki returned to the bedroom, stripped down to his shorts, and slipped back into the futon with Hiroki. The professor didn't awaken but pressed back into his returned warmth.<p>

As he lay there, Nowaki's mind quietly processed. There were few things in his life that he had ever wanted for himself: a loving family when he was younger, and now, though it wasn't really too different from that earlier wish, Nowaki wanted Hiro-san to love him some day.

His heart broke more than just a bit, then, when Hiroki exhaled a dreamy sighed and murmured, "Akihiko," as he snuggled in further. Nowaki uttered a soft sigh of his own at this unconscious confession.

_It looks like I have my work cut out for me._

Wrapping Hiroki in his arms, Nowaki nuzzled into the back of the wild, dark head on the pillow beside him. Despite the conflict he felt, the overwhelming happiness of being able to hold his new beloved, as he was, filled him, and within a few minutes, Nowaki was soundly asleep.

* * *

><p>He awoke the next morning happier than he could remember feeling in ages, all the uncomfortable events of the previous evening put solidly behind him. Hiroki was still sleeping peacefully in his arms, but at some point during the night the professor had turned over and he was now facing Nowaki's chest, his sleep-tousled head tucked perfectly under Nowaki's chin.<p>

Raising one of his arms, Nowaki carefully stroked Hiroki's thick mane, marveling at the subtle striations in it, brought out by the morning light slanting in through the blinds.

Hiroki's normally perturbed face looked peaceful; his forehead unfurrowed, not pulled down by the weight of his thoughts. Youthful looking already, he appeared even younger than usual and his countenance was breathtakingly innocent.

No one would ever suspect, seeing Hiroki in this instance, the true depths of his brokenness.

Nowaki couldn't help himself; he pressed warm lips to a cool forehead in a gentle kiss. Hiro-san stirred slightly but didn't awaken.

Carefully, the escort unwound himself: extricating without awakening was a skill he had long perfected. Once out of the futon, Nowaki stretched. He pulled a slipped blanket up over Hiroki's beautifully bare shoulder to compensate for the lost warmth of his absent body. He studied the curled, serenely resting form beneath the rumpled sheets. He knew, however, that after last night, Hiro-san would not feel so undisturbed when he woke.

Nowaki had a good hangover treatment, but he'd checked Hiroki's kitchen last night and the scholar was short a few ingredients. After pulling on his clothes from the previous evening, Nowaki grabbed Hiroki's keys off the small table in the entry, slipped into his shoes, and out the door.

* * *

><p>An hour and a half later, Hiroki groaned and his eyes slowly blinked open. His brow creased before his eyes had even had the chance to focus. He rubbed his aching temples and his recently-slumbering mind immediately kicked into consciousness, accelerating rapidly when he felt the sheets against his bare skin and realized he was naked.<p>

_What in the hell happened last night?_

Hiroki instantly began berating himself for drinking, while his hangover-taxed brain scrambled to gather as many fragments as possible of the memories his drunken mind had dropped.

As always, it was just little bits that came back to him.

_I attended the reception, then…_ _We went to dinner…_

_What did we discuss? Did I say anything too outrageous?_

As he stretched his hand wider to massage the first furrow of the day, Hiroki winced. He pulled his hand down and looked at it; the back of it was stained an angry hue. Then Hiroki remembered something about spilled tea and…

_Akihiko's book._

He grimaced. This expression deepened when he suddenly recalled propositioning Nowaki in his entry.

He groaned softly.

Hiroki hoped to the gods they hadn't done anything and if they had, he prayed fervently that they'd at least used a condom. His hand drifted down behind him, touching the small of his back. There was nothing of the telltale ache that occasionally lingered, but without looking at the clock, who knew how long ago they might have fucked or maybe it just hadn't been particularly hard.

His hand moved lower, Hiroki pressed tentatively between his cheeks and touched his asshole.

There was, again, no tenderness and none of the lingering wetness that often leaked out after a well-lubed fuck.

A wave of relief washed over him.

Hiroki did not allow himself to float on this crest for long, however, before he reluctantly rolled over to check the clock on his nightstand, his spinning thoughts only adding to his dizziness. He looked at the numbers; it was after ten a.m. Hiroki closed his aching eyes. He rarely ever slept this late.

He thanked his ancestors that it was Saturday and he didn't have to teach.

Exhausted by the day already, Hiroki gave into the press of his tiredness and allowed himself to drift.

In this semi-conscious state, before long, he found himself thinking about Akihiko's hands, the way his friend softly ruffled his head almost every time they saw each other.

He'd always liked that sensation: Akihiko's cool hand stroking his hair. Hiroki imagined it so clearly he could feel it. Except this time the hand was warm, in stark contrast to the author's actual touch.

Then Hiroki realized there really was someone ruffling his hair. He awoke with a start, and sat up quickly. Too quickly, his aching head informed him.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Hiroki winced, instantly regretting his own volume as he gathered a sheet around his bare midsection.

"I finished my paper route and thought I'd drop by…" Nowaki was kneeling next to the futon twirling a set of house keys around a finger of the hand that hadn't been in Hiroki's hair.

"You have a paper route?" Hiroki asked incredulously, suddenly confused. Then seeing the twinkle in the other's eye he realized that Nowaki had been teasing. Then he noticed the keys Nowaki twirled were his.

_How the fuck did he get my keys?_

Grabbing both sides of his head with his hands, Hiroki snapped, as loudly as his aching head could bear, "Give me my keys… And…

Get the hell out!"

Nowaki looked at him mildly, not in the least bit flustered by the outburst.

"What? After you asked me to stay last night? "

Hiroki's face shifted rapidly from an expression of anger to one of distress.

"I did?"

Nowaki shook his head sadly.

"You know, you told me outside the restaurant that you didn't remember much after you'd been drinking, but I would have thought for sure you would have remembered _that_… And all that came after."

Seeing the horrified look on Hiroki's face, Nowaki couldn't bear to continue teasing. "Hiro-san, you must know nothing happened, we just shared your bed."

Somehow this didn't comfort Hiroki much. He'd never allowed anyone outside of Akihiko to sleep with him in his bed before and besides Shinoda, he'd rarely ever allowed himself to spend the night in anyone else's.

"Here, Hiro-san…" Nowaki interrupted the professor's processing. He picked up a glass that had been sitting beside him on the floor. "I made you this hangover cure; I hope that you'll try it. It might make you feel a lot better."

Hiroki stared at Nowaki's extended hand. Then he reached out and took the glass. Suspiciously peering into it, he took a tentative whiff.

Seeing the face Hiroki made, Nowaki laughed. "Just drink it down fast, Hiro-san. I promise it will make you feel better."

Hiroki stared at the glass a few moments longer, than he shrugged. He downed the glass with a grimace. Once empty, he handed the empty beaker back.

"Thank you, Nowaki," Hiroki hiccuped. Then he asked hesitantly, "I didn't say anything too…" Hiroki couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"Last night?" Nowaki offered a gentle smile. "No, I think I pulled you out of the dinner before you did too much damage."

A grateful sigh escaped Hiroki, then he remembered his brief flash of memory with Nowaki in the entry. "And after dinner?" Hiroki dropped his eyes, a blush rising to his cheeks.

He was shocked to feel that same warm hand that had woken him, gently run through his bed-tangled hair again.

"You were fine, Hiro-san," Nowaki assured. "You know you're not the first person I've encountered who's had too much to drink...

"But you are most definitely the cutest."

Hiroki's head popped up at this, he pulled back out from under Nowaki's touch. "I'm not cute, I'm a grown man!"

Nowaki just back at him in a way that told Hiroki he wasn't convinced of this assertion. Hiroki scowled at this.

_Damn brat._

Under the continuing warmth of the escort's serene gaze, however, he felt his hackles smooth out.

"I guess I do owe you for getting me through things last night..." Hiroki realized that even though he'd paid the man for the evening, Nowaki had been under no obligation to keep him from making a complete fool of himself.

"So you owe me one then, Hiro-san?" Nowaki's voice was slightly suggestive, his sweet grin grew wider.

"What? What do you want?" Hiroki's eyes immediately narrowed and his shoulders hunched protectively.

Nowaki's grin faded and his expression was suddenly strangely vulnerable.

"Last night in the car I told you I needed to take my equivalency exams to get into college and asked if you'd tutor me," Nowaki's voice was as cautious as Hiroki's posture. "I was serious, Hiro-san. It would mean so much if you'd help me."

Hiroki looked into the younger man's starkly earnest eyes. His forehead creased as he considered the request.

"Okay, Nowaki," Hiroki sighed, then he added, making sure to keep his voice fierce, "But we're doing it on my schedule and you better be serious! I don't want you wasting my time."

Nowaki beamed happily, "Yes, Hiro-san!"

The escort's fervor made Hiroki uncomfortable. He glared at his newest pupil. "Just don't go getting too far ahead of yourself!" Then Hiroki suddenly realized that the ache in his head had subsided. He looked at Nowaki and then dropped his eyes blushing again when his stomach suddenly rumbled loudly.

"I made breakfast, Hiro-san. I thought since you didn't really eat last night, if your stomach wasn't too bothersome, you might be hungry."

Hiroki looked back up, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and annoyance.

"I'm not quite done yet, so why don't you take a quick shower," Nowaki stood up, holding Hiroki's empty glass. He stepped towards the bedroom door. "That might help you feel better too."

Dark eyes watched the tall youth disappear back out into the main room. After sitting in silence for a moment, Hiroki swung his legs over the side of the bed, grateful that the world had finally stopped spinning. He stilled again, contemplating this strange turn of events.

_What the hell's going on here?_

Still, this wasn't the worst start to a day he had experienced. A slight shiver shook Hiroki's lean frame at this thought.

_ I'm cold._

Hiroki sighed and pushed himself up off the futon with a slight groan, wrapped a wrinkled sheet around his waist, and stretched his stiff muscles. He headed off the bathroom to shower, hoping the hot water would chase away the sudden chill that had gripped him.

* * *

><p>While Hiroki was in the shower contemplating what to do with his unexpected house guest, another unanticipated visitor was wending his way to the professor's apartment.<p>

Akihiko had made it through the rest of the previous night, but not comfortably.

Not long after he and Takahiro had returned to their table, Takahiro received a call from the woman watching Misaki, reporting that the boy's fever had spiked again. With this news, Takahiro excused himself early and left the party.

Akihiko had surprised himself when Takahiro departed, not offering to drive his friend home. Usually, he would do whatever he could to linger in the other man's presence, but something had not so subtlety shifted in him, and Akihiko actually found himself relieved when the eldest Takahashi finally left.

With Takahiro's absence Akihiko was left with Aikawa, who was always a delight, no matter how drunk she got, and Isaka. The author's appetite had evaporated while watching Hiroki and Kusama outside and the rich food he'd already consumed soured in his stomach. Though he wished desperately end the dinner prematurely, feeling as unnerved as he was, Akihiko was not in the mood to be alone with his thoughts either.

So, he'd allowed things to progress, and though he didn't eat anything more, he did do a fair amount of additional drinking. Of course, Isaka matched his liquid consumption and, eventually reached the point of inebriation where he made the inevitable pass at Akihiko.

Fortunately, Aikawa had seen this coming and had excused herself from the table not too long before to call Asahina.

Isaka's lover arrived to take his drunken boyfriend home just before things got out of hand.

Not that Akihiko couldn't have handled it; he was used to Ryuchiro's advances, having spent years of his childhood fervently evading Isaka, usually quite successfully. Still, he had been relieved to see Asahina take the young director in hand and by then, even more relieved to see the evening finally hobble to its close.

Unfit to drive, Akihiko had at least had the presence of mind to leave his car with the valet and take a cab home. He shared one with Aikawa, insisting, even in his compromised state, to see her home. Though exceedingly tipsy herself, in the distance between the restaurant and her front door, Aikawa was still sharp enough to have all but convinced Akihiko to try his hand at the BL genre.

Trying to avoid any more significant musings, Akihiko had ruminated on her suggestions for the rest of his trip home. Despite this distraction, however, his thoughts kept returning over and over to what Hiroki had said at the dinner and what he'd seen.

Considering this, as he'd entered his flat, Akihiko suddenly realized with a start, that Takahiro had entered his life right on the heels of what had happened with Hiroki and Haruhiko.

Akihiko found his mind traveling back. He wondered for the first time if maybe he hadn't chosen Takahiro as the perfect diversion from dealing with the events that had occurred, the conflict regarding all the feelings he'd had for Hiroki.

That had been the first in a series of considerations that followed in a chain, as endless as the cigarettes he's smoked throughout the remainder of the night.

Now, after perhaps the second longest night of his life, Akihiko found himself standing on the landing outside Hiroki's apartment door.

He raised his hand to knock, but then hesitated.

_What am I doing here?_ He asked himself this for about the hundredth time since he'd left his own flat.

_If Hiroki has his usual hangover, he'll hardly be in a pleasant mood._

Akihiko also wondered if Kusama had spent the night, or if Hiroki had eventually sent him on his way. He wouldn't have been surprised if sleepovers between the couple weren't common.

The author knew that outside of himself, despite how he'd teased when he'd first heard of his best friend's new beau, that Hiroki rarely allowed anyone into his space. Since that time too, Hiroki had mentioned on more than one occasion, that Kusama kept his own place and that they'd no plans for any sort of real co-habitation.

Still, regardless of either mood or possible company, Akihiko had to see Hiroki.

Akihiko knew what he was doing was reckless, but he'd never been one whose actions had been governed by logic. He lived through his senses much more so than his mind most of the time. The young author also knew there a component of his act that was selfish, especially as Hiroki had finally seemed to find someone he was happy with.

Still, he told himself that four months was hardly long enough to know if a relationship was going to withstand the test of time and there were so many things about Kusama that bothered him, … little things he couldn't quite put his finger on.

_I just have to check on him, that's all. _

Akihiko vowed to himself, if it truly seemed Hiroki was happy, he wouldn't interfere. But if he saw anything more to arouse his concern, he would confront him and find out where his friend truly stood.

_And if there is any chance… any hope… _

Together the two of them might overcome the pain of the past and possibly make a new future together.

Akihiko took a deep breath and, at last, knocked on the door.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading and chiming in!<strong>


	13. Chapter 13: Breakfast

**The Escort**

**Chapter Thirteen: Breakfast  
><strong>

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><p>Nowaki was in the kitchen dishing rice out of the steamer when he heard a knock on the front door of Hiroki's apartment. The professor was in the shower and so, though unsure about whether this would be okay or not, the escort decided he would answer it, in case it was something important.<p>

However, Nowaki found himself wishing fervently that he hadn't, when he cracked the door open, only to find Usami standing on the other side of it.

The young author studied the escort closely.

After leaving Hiroki's and before he'd gone shopping, Nowaki had gone to his own apartment first to get the money he needed to return to Hiro-san and to pay Matsuo for the overnight "extension."

While home, Nowaki had showered and changed. He'd donned a pair of faded bluejeans and a tight black t-shirt that well-displayed his gym-fine physique.

Akihiko found himself acutely aware, once more, of the tall youth's physicality in comparison with his own more academic energy. He also noted that Kusama did not look particularly pleased at his arrival, even though he stepped back slightly and politely greeted him.

"Usami-san."

Akihiko was surprised when Nowaki didn't immediately step aside and usher him in.

"Kusama-san." The author strained to keep his voice cordial. "I am sorry to intrude into your weekend.

"Is Hiroki in? I'd like to see him about something.

"I tried to call earlier, but he didn't answer his phone, so I was a bit concerned." Akihiko discovered he felt immensely irritated to have to ask this stranger for permission to see his oldest friend.

"Hiro-san is occupied right now and after yesterday's events, I'm sure you'd understand If I told you that he's not feeling particularly well this morning," Nowaki's voice remained polite but his tone was distinctly cool.

Looking at Nowaki, Akihiko was suddenly reminded of a huge black mastiff one of his neighbors had owned. It was gentle as a lamb with its masters, acting like a big puppy, but the minute a stranger appeared, the dog became deadly. In fact, it eventually had to be destroyed after attacking someone.

Still, Akihiko was not about to be bullied by this giant who'd not even been in Hiroki's life for six months yet.

"Ah, yes… quite, Kusama-san and I apologize for the inconvenience, but it is rather important and I am sure Hiroki would want to see me if he knew I was here."

Though he remained silent, every element of Kusama's expression and his body language articulated the same statement to Akihiko and it was not in the least bit welcoming:

_Hiro-san is mine._

His own eyes narrowing at this unspoken challenge, Akihiko stood there.

Finally Nowaki stepped aside, inviting the author in with a tight-lipped smile.

Akihiko crossed into the entry. As he bent down to take off his shoes and then hung up his jacket, he watched Nowaki move stiffly into the kitchen.

Stepping into the main room, Akihiko immediately noticed the low table was spread with a beautiful breakfast. He looked over to across the counter that divided the main space from the kitchen.

Nowaki had returned to dishing the rice and was studiously ignoring him.

"I apologize again, Kusama-san. I didn't realize that I was going to be disrupting your breakfast, though it is reassuring to know that Hiroki obviously feels well enough to eat," Akihiko rolled his observation out in a smooth, smoky tone.

Nowaki looked up and was considering whether or not to respond to this pointed comment when Hiroki walked out of the bathroom naked except for the white towel loosely held around his hips with one hand. The other hand held a smaller towel and he was rubbing the excess water from his hair with it.

Nowaki's hangover cure and the shower had helped immeasurably.

"Nowaki, that tonic is really something else... But can I ask what you did with my clothes from last night?" Hiroki muttered this, stepping into the main room without looking up. When he finally did and saw his silver-haired friend standing there he sputtered, "A-Akihiko!"

Nowaki stepped out of the kitchen carrying the bowl of rice.

"I took your sweater to the cleaner's when I went out to get groceries, Hiro-san. The ticket is on the counter." Nowaki set the rice on the table. "And your jeans are on the line out on the balcony." Nowaki nodded to the small sliding doors that led to the narrow landing at the back of the apartment. Hiroki followed the escort's motion and saw several pairs of his pants hanging up through the glass.

Akihiko was struck by the domesticity that this exchange alluded to and found himself feeling unnerved and distinctly jealous of the two men sharing such a common conversation.

As he considered this, he studied Hiroki closely. His friend was considerably thinner than the last time he'd seen him. Akihiko knew that when Hiroki was busy or stressed he would often fail or forget to eat.

"Sorry to just drop by, Old Man, but I was a bit worried about you and there's something I needed to talk with you about too." Akihiko added, "I am glad Kusama-san is cooking for you, my friend, because if he wasn't, you look like you would have wasted away entirely by now."

Hiroki was not particularly embarrassed about being seen in only a towel by Akihiko, they had been friends for so long, but the comment on his thinness made him blush.

Then Akihiko's sharp eyes noticed Hiroki's hand, the scald mark had been made even pinker from the heat of the shower. "What happened there, Hiroki?"

Hiroki blushed a bit more at the new wave of concern in his friend's voice. "I burned myself last night after I got home… Hot tea. I ruined one of your books too…"

Akihiko noticed Hiroki glancing at Nowaki a bit uncertainly as he said this. He frowned his as his suspicions mounted. "Well, no worry… I'm happy to give you as many of my books as you like, you know that, Hiroki. Just tell me the title and I'll get you another.

Hiroki nodded his thanks, but he was aware of a rather dark energy transpiring between Akihiko and Nowaki.

"So, you wanted to talk about something, Akihiko?" Hiroki scratched his head nervously. He hoped that it wasn't about something he'd done last night that Nowaki hadn't disclosed to him.

"Why didn't you just call?"

"I did, but there was no answer," Akihiko offered.

"I think your phone is still in your coat pocket, Hiro-san," Nowaki said mildly.

Hiroki looked at the escort slightly puzzled that the man would have taken the time to note something so insignificant. Then he looked at Akihiko who was now eying the contents of the table with interest.

"Nowaki, is there enough for Akihiko to join us for breakfast? I mean if you don't mind." Hiroki grew a bit concerned when he saw the tightness in the escort's smile.

"Oh course, Hiro-san. It would be wonderful if Usami-san would join us. I was just about to suggest it myself." Nowaki's voice was just shy of truly pleasant.

Akihiko ignored the slight in the tone, pleased that Hiroki had privileged him over Kusama with the invitation.

"Ah, just let me throw some clothes on and I'll be right back." Hiroki ducked into his bedroom.

Out in the main room, now that Hiroki was absent, Akihiko watched as Nowaki moved comfortably around the kitchen picking up the pieces for another place setting.

Nowaki was silent as he did this, though inside his head his mind was frantic.

It seemed obvious to him that their little trickery had worked and now Usami was jealous. Nowaki was surprised: he would have never thought the author would have shifted his attentions so quickly. Not after watching him moon over that Takahiro fellow for most of the previous night.

The escort was trying desperately to figure out how in the hell he was supposed to compete with all the years of friendship that the two men had. As if Nowaki hadn't already seen enough other evidence supporting this earlier; it was also obvious from Hiro-san's dreamy whisper that he had powerful feelings for Usami…

"You seem pretty at home here, Kusama-san," Akihiko observed.

"I should hope so, Usami-san. I've been dating Hiro-san for months now." Nowaki stepped to the low table and set another place.

"I'm just saying… Maybe it wouldn't be wise for you to get too used to that feeling. You know, Hiroki can be a fickle fellow sometimes."

Nowaki stared hard at Akihiko clearly understanding the threat. His eyes burned like a blue flame.

"Perhaps you don't know Hiro-san as well as you think, Usami-san… As I have found him to be loyal to fault… Even at times when it clearly goes against his best interest." There was a slight growl in Nowaki's tone.

Akihiko inadvertently flinched at these words. The possible implications struck him deeply and he suddenly found himself wondering how much about his life Hiroki had confided in his new lover.

"And," Nowaki added with a confidence he really didn't feel, "If anyone should be worried about being too comfortable with the state of how things have been, I would say that should be you."

Akihiko was about to retort when Hiroki emerged from the bedroom. The young scholar was barefoot, wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt that had been form fitting a few weeks before, but now hung a bit loose.

Seeing the two men still standing there, Hiroki scowled. "You two should have just started eating without me… I'm sorry you felt you had to wait."

"I wouldn't start without you, Hiro-san," Nowaki said earnestly.

"Nonsense," Akihiko confirmed.

Hiroki's scowl deepened, but he refrained from saying anything more. He was unnerved by the intense way both Nowaki and Akihiko were regarding him. He stepped to the table and motioned for them to sit.

Together the three men sat down around the low table, said a quick blessing, and began filling their bowls.

"So we hardly had the chance to get acquainted last night. Would you tell me again what it is you do, Kusama-san… When you're not being a student?

"Hiroki told me you work nights but he wasn't specific," Akihiko inquired in his politest tone. He noticed that when he asked this, Hiroki suddenly choked on the bit of rice he'd just put into his mouth.

"Are you okay, Hiro-san?" Nowaki automatically handed the professor his cup of tea, making sure that Hiroki had it this time before he released it.

Hiroki took the cup gratefully and nodded.

Nowaki turned to Akihiko and said with a pleasantness he certainly didn't feel, "I currently work for a few clubs."

"Oh, and what is it that you do there?" Akihiko asked taking a sip of his own tea.

"I'm a bouncer," Nowaki's voice was mild, but the look he gave Akihiko when he said this was significant.

Akihiko's brows rose perceptibly.

_So Kusama is a man of violence by trade. Well that certainly explains why he handled Hiroki in the way he did last night_.

Fortunately, Akihiko's eyes were focused on the escort; otherwise he would have noted a significant rise in Hiroki's brow as well.

"Er… Akihiko, what was it that you needed to talk me about again?" Hiroki hoped this change in topic would deter the conversation from Akihiko asking anymore questions of Nowaki.

Akihiko looked momentarily at a loss. He hadn't really thought out what it was he wanted to truly say to Hiroki and he knew whatever he was going to confess, he didn't want to do it in front of Kusama.

"Ah well I wondered if I could get that book back I lent you a few weeks ago… 'Night of a Thousand Pandas.' I need it as a resource for a new piece I'm writing."

"That's it?" Hiroki asked skeptically, usually when Akihiko needed a book back he ended up bringing it to him.

"No," Akihiko said just a little bit sheepishly. "I have something else I'd like to discuss with you… maybe after breakfast though… In private. If you don't mind"

"Sure…Okay." Hiroki felt his anxiety rise, wondering again if this had anything to do possibly with some drunken behavior on his part last night.

"Good," Akihiko smiled. He reached across the table to ruffle Hiroki's hair.

At that same moment Nowaki also reached out his hand, seemingly inadvertently, pushed Akihiko's aside.

"Sorry, Usami-san…" Nowaki's voice was unperturbed, his hand continued on, gently brushing against Hiroki's cheek.

"Hold still for a second, Hiro-san… You have something on your face." The escort withdrew a finger holding a single grain of rice that had been stuck just at the side of Hiroki's mouth.

Nowaki sucked the grain off his finger. This act struck both of the other men at the table as incredibly intimate.

"Nowaki!" Hiroki blushed fiercely.

Nowaki just smiled sweetly at Hiroki and then reached out and ruffled the brunet's head himself.

Though he was mightily embarrassed, there was another secret part of Hiroki that relished the attention and Nowaki's warm touch.

Akihiko cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Hiroki found himself feeling like he was having a Takahiro moment. There was some strange dynamic going on at the table he didn't fully understand but what he did know was that it made him distinctly uncomfortable.

"Look," Hiroki popped up from where he was sitting, surprising the other two men. "I'm pretty sure I have that book in my bedroom, Akihiko. "I think I'll go get it now while I'm thinking about it."

Sensing Akihiko and Nowaki were both about to protest his departure from the table, Hiroki chuckled nervously, "You go ahead and keep eating… I mean… I just wouldn't want to forget it."

Once Hiroki had disappeared Akihiko took another sip of his tea. "That burn on Hiroki's hand worries me." he stared over the rim of his cup at Nowaki.

"It didn't blister, so it should fade rather quickly," Nowaki replied not looking up, placidly continuing to eat.

"What I mean is, even drunk, Hiroki isn't usually so careless." Akihiko's eyes studying the escort carefully.

At these words Nowaki head shot up. "What are you implying, Usami-san?"

Akihiko said nothing he just continued to stare but his unspoken accusation was quite clear.

"I love Hiro-san! I would never intentionally hurt him!" Nowaki said hotly. Then he turned the tap on his voice from hot over to cold, "You on the other hand..."

Akihiko's eyes widened a bit at these words, but he refused to lose his composure. "Are you threatening me, Kusama?"

"Is it a threat or am I referring to how much you've so carelessly hurt Hiro-san yourself…

"I wonder?" Nowaki's voice was low as he returned his gaze to his bowl. His cheeks were flushed with his anger.

"I asked you," Akihiko whispered.

However, Kusama's words were as effective as any physical blow would have been. Akihiko's mind was reeling and, once again, he found himself wondering how much of his past Hiroki had disclosed, what Kusama knew.

He was brought back from these thoughts by the escort's next verbal punch.

"You decide to keep hanging around and you'll find out soon enough which it is…" Nowaki offered this as though he were commenting on the weather.

Akihiko was shocked: no one talked to him like this.

The author realized suddenly he'd made a mistake in coming here. He had been considering Hiroki's flat part of his territory and realized now that his earlier analogy of the mastiff had not been far off: Kusama had clearly claimed this space and was now adamant about defending it.

Despite the fact he was often impetuous, Akihiko was not stupid.

He realized it would be foolish now to try and have any sort of conversation with Hiroki here. He did not want some sort of messy confrontation, a situation where he would look bad or give Hiroki reason to reject him.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Hiroki had located the requested book quickly but then had sat down on the futon for a few minutes, not quite ready to go back out into the other room. He was struggling with his own thoughts.

He didn't want to think too highly of himself, but he'd gotten the distinct impression that somehow both of the men in the other room were vying for his attention.

Hiroki didn't understand what was going on fully between himself and the escort.

He worried about what he may have said the previous evening that would not only entice Nowaki to stay, but make him breakfast as well. He had to admit, however, if he was honest with himself, that there was something there. He felt a deep pull towards this man he'd just met. Something about Nowaki ministered to him, where Akihiko just stirred him up.

At the same time, Hiroki thought he might be going crazy, but it seemed to him as though Akihiko was acting just the slightest bit jealous.

_Is it possible that seeing me with Nowaki has at last moved him?_

Hiroki damned himself for his foolish heart. How many times over the last fourteen years had he dared to hope only to find himself feeling stupid later?

No, Hiroki had to convince himself that if Akihiko was jealous at all… which was highly unlikely… that it was just because he was used to having him pretty much at his beck and call and was unused to having to share his time with anyone else.

_Yes, that has to be it._ And while this was painful in its own way, it was certainly less mortifying than the agony of having a renewed hope crushed yet one more time.

_Right?_

Hiroki pushed himself up off the bed, aware that no matter how much he wished it otherwise, his resolution was still tenuous. Despite this however, he moved back into the other room where Akihiko and Nowaki were now silently eating.

"I found it!" Hiroki tried to sound casual; the tension around the table was so thick it was palpable.

Akihiko stood up to take the book. "Thanks, Old Man.

"Erm… You know, Hiroki… Kusama-san was just telling me how much he'd been looking forward to spending his day with you. So, I'll just plan to speak with you some other time…

"It's nothing that can't wait a bit longer anyway."

"Are you sure?" Hiroki was confused by this change in agenda. It was strange behavior for Akihiko: his friend was not usually someone to put things off.

_Unless it was his writing of course._

"Ummmmm… quite sure," Akihiko purred reassuringly. At the same time he said this, he stepped up to Hiroki. Akihiko took the book from the professor with one hand and ran the other through Hiroki's hair.

Hiroki's brow furrowed, even Akihiko's touch was off today.

The normally cool hand felt slightly warm. This made it feel uncomfortably tepid in contrast to Nowaki's pure heat. Hiroki was shocked at himself for even making this comparison, not nearly as shocked however, by the fact that this morning Akihiko's usually light touch lingered.

Questioningly, Hiroki brought his gaze to meet his friend's. He was startled to find an uncommon heat in these too: where Akihiko's expression was typically composed, the mood in his eyes was clearly chaotic.

Hiroki dropped his eyes suddenly, when next to them, Nowaki cleared his throat. The tall youth had stood now as well. Hiroki was surprised to see how stern the escort's usually serene face was.

At the sound of Kusama's throat clearing, Akihiko removed his hand from Hiroki's hair. He allowed it to stay just a moment longer than was appropriate, however, making a point to Kusama: while he was retreating temporarily, this was by no means over.

"Careful, Kusama-san," Akihiko said lightly, "You might make Hiroki think you're the jealous type."

Nowaki crossed his arms across his chest and looked at Akihiko intently. "I am."

Hiroki stared at Nowaki in undisguised amazement at how direct the escort was being. He was even more amazed when Akihiko responded.

"Well, with a treasure like Hiroki, I suppose it's only natural to worry someone else might try and steal him away."

Hiroki blushed fiercely at the unexpected value Akihiko's praise expressed. "What the hell, Akihiko?… Why would you say something so embarrassing when I'm standing right here?"

Akihiko just gave his friend an enigmatic smile and waved the text.

"Thanks for the book, Old Man; I can see myself out. I'll call you next week when you're at work and we'll make plans to get together and talk."

"No, I can walk you to the door at least, Akihiko," Hiroki mumbled this, feeling deeply embarrassed for reasons he couldn't clearly articulate.

"I'll come too," Nowaki moved over to Hiroki and set a large claiming hand on his shoulder. "So sorry you felt you needed to leave so soon,Usami-san."

Akihiko slipped into his shoes and his jacket. Hiroki stepped out from under Nowaki's hot palm to open the door for Akihiko.

"Ah, Kusama-san," Akihiko's voice was chipper, "No worries. I'm sure I will be back sooner than you might expect." He nodded. "Later, Hiroki."

And with that, Akihiko stepped out onto the walkway, closing the door behind him on his perplexed friend.

_Temporarily at least,_ Akihiko thought as he headed home to regroup.

* * *

><p><strong>Jealous semes are just so much fun. But then, in my humble opinion, Hiroki is definitely worth fighting over. Heh.<strong>

**Thank you for reading! Hope you liked all the little canon twists in the last two chapters.**


	14. Chapter 14: Behind CLosed Doors

**The Escort **

**Chapter Fourteen: Behind Closed Doors**

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><p>As soon as Akihiko left and the door closed behind him, Hiroki turned and stared hard at Nowaki.<p>

"What's gotten into you, Nowaki? I mean, what the hell was that all about?" He pushed past the escort back into the main room.

"Now Akihiko's going to totally have the wrong idea about us!"

Nowaki stepped back into the room behind, following. "On the contrary, Hiro-san, Usami-san is going to think exactly what you wanted him to from the beginning, even more so.

Right?" There was something slightly pained in the escort's quiet tone.

Hiroki now stood, arms crossed with his back to Nowaki, but the next softly spoken words caused him to turn around in amazement.

"Does that bother you, Hiro-san? I mean, after all, you love him."

"What?" Hiroki gaped, startled to see the depths of the sadness in Nowaki's blue eyes.

"You whispered his name in your sleep." Nowaki dropped his gaze.

A hot flush of shame filled Hiroki's cheeks. This was exactly why he never allowed a lover to sleep over.

_Hold on…_ Hiroki thought as this flashed in his mind, _Nowaki isn't even a real lover… _

_But…_

"Whoa… wait a minute!" Hiroki shouted indignantly, "Just what do you think you're trying to pull here anyway? What does what I say in my sleep have to do with you at all?"

At these words Nowaki looked up. His face was solemn as he reached into his back pocket and drew out two pale envelopes.

"Here," Nowaki thrust one envelope into Hiroki's surprised hands.

"What's in the hell is this?" The professor was completely confused now.

"It's the money you paid for me for last night," Nowaki said calmly. "And this," he added, waving the other envelope before sticking back into his pocket, "Is what I am paying my manager for the extra fee it cost when I told him I was staying the night here."

Looking at the envelope in his hand, Hiroki found himself at a complete loss for words. He struggled to process what he'd just been told.

Another silver of memory embedded itself in Hiroki's mind…

He remembered asking Nowaki to stay and the escort leaving to make a quick call.

Hiroki felt another rush of strong emotion as he now recalled lying there, convinced that Nowaki was just going to leave him, and the immense relief that followed when the man had actually returned.

Hiroki looked back up. If what Nowaki said was true then it meant that his escort was now actually paying to spend the night with him.

He couldn't believe this…

_What kind of crazy person actually pays to linger in the presence of a miserable drunk? Let alone stay and cook said drunk breakfast the next day… and wash his clothes._

It was incomprehensible.

"No, Nowaki… that's not right." A furious blush filled Hiroki's cheeks. He pushed the envelope back.

"No, Hiro-san."

Nowaki wrapped his large hands around Hiroki's clenched fist and followed with his body as he pushed it back against Hiroki's chest.

"If you won't take it for last night, keep it then and let me pay for my tutoring."

"What the hell?" Hiroki was at a loss. "You still think you're serious about this tutoring thing?"

Nowaki brought one hand up and cupped the side of the stunned brunet's face. "Honestly, Hiro-san, I would pay any amount, give anything I had, to be able to spend just one more minute with you."

Given the profound sense of worthlessness Hiroki had carried for much of his life, these words went straight to his heart, touched the very deepest place of his wounding. He was overwhelmed by the wave of emotion that crashed over him.

Hiroki quickly pushed himself away from the escort's beckoning heat, dropping the envelope in the process. When it hit the floor, the loose flap opened and its contents spilled out onto the polished surface.

"I think your job has addled your brain, Nowaki… That or you've read too many romance manga… That's the most clichéd line I've ever heard!" Hiroki scoffed trying to cover the terrible desperation he suddenly felt.

Undeterred by this critique, Nowaki moved back towards him. Stepping back as the escort approached, Hiroki tried to keep out from under the tall youth's powerful energy. He was immensely disconcerted by Nowaki's intense expression.

Hiroki continued to retreat until he felt his shoulders collide with the wall. The minute he made contact, something within him gave way, his knees grew weak; Within moments he found himself, ass set on the cool floor.

Nowaki dropped to his knees and moved in between splayed legs. He leaned forward on his arms, each of his large hands covered one of Hiroki's, trapping him so that Hiroki couldn't get away.

"It's not a cliché," Nowaki growled low, staring deeply into shocked eyes. "It's a confession."

His dark head moved forward until his lips were all but touching Hiroki's. "You seem so astute, Hiro-san, but I fear you'd never acknowledge it unless I just say it outright…"

Hiroki's eyes widened at these words. Nowaki released one of his hands and brought it up, running warm fingers once more through wild, brown locks. Hiroki marveled again at how similar the tender touch was to Akihiko's though Nowaki's flesh was…

_So incredibly hot._

Within him conflicting desires warred. Hiroki felt besieged and so terribly battered, he didn't know if his heart could endure any more breakage.

"Hiro-san?" Nowaki called softly.

In his chest, Hiroki's broken heart beat faster. The gentle tone of Nowaki's voice offered a salve and he yearned for a poultice of love that would heal and not gall him.

Still his mind whirled.

_I can't take this…_ Despite the strange connection he undeniably felt.

_Please_, Hiroki's frantic internal voice begged, _Don't say my name like that… Don't touch me…don't treat me gently if you don't mean it… I don't have the strength to bear any more._

Externally Hiroki scowled at Nowaki. He turned his head away from beckoning lips. He slipped his still trapped hand out from under Nowaki's, put both hands on Nowaki's chest and pushed the tall youth back, scrambling out from under the escort on his hands and knees.

It was far from dignified but it was an escape.

Nowaki surprised him by not persisting, by allowing him to slip away relatively easily: he had other methods of capture at his disposal.

"I love you, Hiro-san." Nowaki said this quietly but the conviction in voice was profound.

The words, spoken so simply, hung in the quiet air of the apartment.

Hiroki immediately stopped in his flight. He lifted himself up off his hands and knelt dumbly on the floor of the front room, amidst the scattered bills.

Nowaki's words wrapped around his bent shoulders, another layer was added as the escort moved up slowly behind him and said gently again, "I love you Hiro-san.

"I gave you back your money, I asked you to be my tutor... Because I fell in love with you at first sight."

"Fell in love at first sight… what are you saying?" Hiroki whispered, his low voice made huskier by the emotions he was trying to restrain. He crossed his arms over his chest and set his hands on his shoulders as though they could brush off the words that had already been absorbed into his flesh.

"When you first opened the door last night, it looked like you had been crying…

"And then here in the apartment after the dinner… You looked so sad, Hiro-san." Nowaki was slowly crawling up closer, approaching Hiro-san tentatively as though he were a broken winged bird he didn't wish to startle into the pain of an impossible flight.

"I know you have feelings for Usami-san and that there's a lot of history between you. I won't ever ask you to tell me about it if you don't want to… but Hiro-san… Please…

Nowaki felt a pain he'd never known pierce him. _I have so little to offer._

Unlike Usami he had no money, no status, no family…

_All I have is my heart _

_And my word._

"If you let me in, I promise that I will never close you out. I swear I'll never do what he's done to you…

Or what he hasn't…"

Nowaki was close enough now that he could touch Hiroki. He moved up and wrapped long arms around from the back, waiting to see what the professor would do.

He exhaled a soft sigh when Hiroki remained still.

"Your sorrow moves me to love, Hiro-san…" Nowaki murmured. "But I can see that you are so much more than that."

He pulled Hiroki slowly back against him and hung his dark head over a trembling shoulder.

"I fell in love with your tears… but now…

"I want to see you smile."

Hiroki didn't resist Nowaki's enveloping embrace, but his cheeks burned with embarrassment at the escort's words. He was amazed, anew, in less than twenty-four hours, Nowaki had seen him so clearly.

_Akihiko never really saw me at all._

_Still… Love at first sight? What kind of basis for relationship… for love… is that? _

It was impossible.

_And yet…_

Hiroki realized with all the years he'd wasted on his other "impossible" love, the profound irony if he would, then, not even give this one a chance. He hung his shaggy head lower.

"You're quite the straight shooter a-aren't you, Nowaki?"

Nowaki was glad Hiro-san was in his arms, otherwise the words spoken were so soft, he would have surely missed them. He drew the professor against him tighter and breathed into Hiroki' ear, "You don't like that, Hiro-san?"

Hiroki raised his head just slightly startled by the question. "No, no… it's nothing like that." He struggled to find a little directness of his own.

"I mean… it's just that I'm not used to that sort of thing."

Hiroki felt his wounded heart begin to flutter madly as a large hand caught and lifted his chin turning his head back. Tender lips brushed gently against his own.

_I don't know what to do anymore._

Hiroki thoughts were in tangles as he submitted himself to the soft petition of Nowaki's kisses. The escort's mouth enveloped his, Nowaki's oral inquiries quickly becoming more adamant.

After a long deep kiss, Nowaki drew his lips away. He bowed his raven forehead against Hiroki's. It was as if in their exchange of tongues, Hiroki had communicated his thoughts.

"Then I'll make you get used to it, Hiro-san."

Nowaki raised his head and placed another tender kiss on a troubled brow.

"I am not asking you to do anything, Hiro-san, except maybe give me a chance."

Nuzzled behind one of Hiroki's ears he whispered, "If all you have been doing up until now has been loving someone, without receiving anything back…" Nowaki's sweet voice filled Hiroki's pinked ear and gentled his wild mind.

"Then don't you think it's time that you had the chance to receive what you have so faithfully given?

"Please, Hiro-san… allow me to love you now."

The escort's hand released Hiroki's chin. It drifted down and found its way easily under the thin white tee-shirt. The heat of Nowaki's flesh seared and Hiroki found himself wondering if this burning touch could cauterize his torn heart.

The escort's hand slid up too prominent ribs to a heaving chest and rested there over the origin of Hiroki's pulse. Nowaki could feel the tumult of this abused organ pounding beneath his fingers: simultaneously so violent and so fragile.

"Hiro-san," Nowaki breathed, his mouth leaving a trail of smoldering kisses down Hiroki's neck, "I love you…" A gentle nip was placed on the bony knob at its base where it joined tight shoulders.

Nowaki's sweet voice entreated."So, please, Hiro-san, give yourself a chance to fall in love with me too,"

Between the soothing cool of Nowaki's tone and the scorch of his hands, Hiroki felt something inside himself give way. He brought a shaking hand to his eyes and used the back of it to wipe away a new kind of tear.

_Akihiko was the one I loved… _

Hiroki felt the heat of Nowaki's hand over his heart intensify. He still wanted to resist out of fear, out of pride, out of sheer stubbornness, but found he was powerless against the pure force of the other man's love.

He blamed Nowaki for his surrender.

_Words like water… touch like flame… Tidal wave, forest fire, _

_Typhoon… _

It didn't matter which…

Regardless of which force of nature it was, Hiroki was suddenly consumed

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you again for readingre-reading this fic with me.**

**Sweet Tentai-T, Alcuzey, Barettachante your faithfulness keeps me moving forward. I hope, new or old, love finds and fills you. Same to all my other dear readers.**

**Next chapter will be the consummation of this AU egoist love...**


	15. Chapter 15: Embraced

**The Escort **

**Chapter Fifteen: Embraced**

* * *

><p>The only sounds in Hiroki's apartment were the ticking of the panda clock on the wall and the ever present hum of the city, wicking in through the windows.<p>

Hiroki felt Nowaki's head bow behind his. Hot breath caressed the bare skin above his shirt's collar.

"Hiro-san…" Nowaki laid another trail of kisses up the side of his neck. Teeth gently closed on an earlobe and gave a light tug. At the same time, the hand beneath his tee-shirt slid over and began to trace the disc of a nipple.

The sensation of these actions started a deep pulse beating in Hiroki's groin; he could feel his balls start to throb.

It had been months since he'd allowed anyone near him like this.

After what had happened with Shinoda, he'd sworn he would never again permit himself to be touched by someone he didn't love. Even now he could still hear Shinoda's smug response.

_"Such idealism. If those are your thoughts then, more than likely, you'll never be touched again."_

Hiroki felt Nowaki's hands begin moving over him. _But I am being touched._ Even so, he was still unresolved as to his own feelings.

_I don't think this is love… but what if it could be?_

What he was completely sure of, however, was that he didn't want Nowaki to stop.

Nowaki's mouth moved again, and a whispered plea brushed his ear.

"Please, Hiro-san, may I love you?"

It was as if Hiroki was a puppet pulled by unseen strings, his head slowly turned, his cheek grazed Nowaki's lips in its motion. After a moment, he nodded.

As soon as he'd given this acquiescence, Hiroki felt strong arms pull and turn him. Before he was even quite sure how it had happened, he found himself facing Nowaki. They were both kneeling; Hiroki was drawn close, now straddling one of Nowaki's lean thighs as he knelt.

Long fingers sought the hem of his shirt and quickly pulled it off over his head. Once the shirt had been discarded, heated hands reached out and clasped each side of his neck at the base of his jaw, just under his ears. Broad thumbs swept over Hiroki's cheeks.

Nowaki leaned in, his mouth seeking Hiro-san's lips, drinking them in with an alcoholic fervor. Shifting the jean clad thigh between lean legs, he pressed up, rubbing against Hiroki's stirring.

Hiroki moaned into the mouth that held him.

One of Nowaki's large hands slid up and into still shower-damp hair. He used this to pull Hiroki's head back, breaking their kiss. Then Nowaki lowered his mouth, placing a series of nipping kisses along the edge of Hiroki's shave-fresh jaw. Moving down his long throat, Nowaki tasted bitter traces of soap and shaving cream. Lifting his head, he licked Hiro-san's cheek, cleansing his palate with the sweet salt of newly shed tears.

He placed a delicate kiss at the corner of a closed eye.

An instant later Nowaki pulled back and looked down, startled to feel hands at the waistband of his jeans. Hiroki's fingers moved with a practiced ease, quickly undoing the button, opening the fly. A slight panting breath escaped the tall youth as a sure hand reached inside and grasped his quickening cock through the fabric of his briefs.

Nowaki raised his head and found himself smiling into a serious, dark gaze. The hand that wasn't twined in Hiroki's hair drifted down and lightly covered the hand in his lap. Nowaki's smile took on a new lightness; he leaned back in pressing his forehead to Hiroki's.

"Hiro-san," his voice thick with desire, Nowaki whispered, "Hard or soft?"

The escort felt the man under his hands tense in surprise at his question, so he asked again gently, "Do you want me to fuck you hard or soft, Hiro-san?"

Hiroki wished for Nowaki to purge him, to drive his desire for Akihiko from his flesh. He wanted the escort's heat to sear and blister him, to burn out the haunting chill of autumn's touch. Hiroki's cheeks blushed hotly, his forehead pressed harder against Nowaki's as his head dropped forward more, too embarrassed to immediately answer.

"Hard," came his choked voice at last. "I want you to take me hard, Nowaki."

No sooner had the words left him, then Hiroki felt the hand in his hair hold his head in place, as Nowaki's previously gentle mouth was suddenly rough against his. A tongue pressed in, Hiroki's own moved eagerly to greet it. Soon the quiet apartment was filled with the sounds of their frantic oral embrace: sucking, and seeking, lightly biting and colliding.

Hiroki's hand left Nowaki's cock and joined its brother in grabbing and lifting the hem of Nowaki's shirt. The tall youth reluctantly released his own hold, so that he could shed the skin of the tight black tee he'd was wearing.

Once Nowaki's torso was bared, Hiroki couldn't help but run admiring hands over the sculpted surface of smooth chest. He was only allowed this exploration for a few moments, however, before strong hands gripped his shoulders.

He felt himself pressed backwards. In an instant, the cool, hard floor met the sharp angles of his shoulders. There was another unfamiliar sensation against the bared flesh of his back: as though he was lying on a bed of leaves. Then Hiroki shifted, he heard a familiar paper whisper and realized he was lying on the spilled bills, Nowaki's repayment.

This thought quickly fled his mind, however.

Nowaki had reversed positions with him so that the escort was now straddling one of his thighs. A knee moved up, grinding harder against his arousal. Hiroki bit back a wanton groan at the sensation. Then he felt Nowaki's mouth on his neck again.

Closing his eyes, he was now so hungry for touch Hiroki didn't even think to object to Nowaki's sucking nips, though such attentions were sure to leave marks behind. Nowaki kissed and licked his way downward, from throat, to collarbone, to the slight swell of tight pectorals.

Hiroki felt his back arch up off the floor following the movements of Nowaki's mouth as the tip of one nipple was lightly caught between white teeth and pulled upwards.

Though Nowaki released it after a moment, he continued to tease in this manner alternating between licks and toothsome nips, moving back and forth between Hiroki's darkening discs as they flushed at this sensual torture. All the while his mouth attended Hiroki's nipples, Nowaki's hands explored his new love's skin with caresses both hard and soft. Hiroki's breathing became labored as the sensations teetered precariously, moving him back and forth over the thin line that divided pain from pleasure.

Then suddenly the hot-wet of lips and tongue was removed. The heated hands left him too and Hiroki felt the sting of the apartment's cool air on the slicked flesh of his chest.

He opened his eyes and saw Nowaki looking down on him, holding himself up on lean muscular arms. The expression in Nowaki's eyes was soft and the tenderness of it opened a new ache in Hiroki's heart.

"Do you want to move into the bedroom, Hiro-san? You might be more comfortable there."

"I don't want comfort!" Hiroki barked, his voice hoarse with need.

Both men recognized the lie the moment the words left his mouth. Still, Nowaki did not try and counter the falsehood; he simply looked at Hiroki with an understanding that made the older man wince.

The professor was grateful then when Nowaki pushed himself up and off of him and went to work skillfully undoing his jeans. Hiroki lifted his hips to assist, as the escort slid them down and off. One of Nowaki's long fingers traced the outline of the growing spot on dark briefs before stripping these off also: evidence that Hiroki's eager dick had begun leaking in anticipation.

Now that Hiro-san was completely revealed, Nowaki raised himself and began pushing his own jeans and briefs down. He paused when he heard Hiroki 's hesitant voice.

"Condom?"

Nowaki looked up to see Hiroki propped up on his elbows, studying him with an embarrassed intensity. The escort was lost for a moment in the beautiful curve of the other man's lean torso in his current position. He shook his shaggy head.

Reaching into the front pocket of his disheveled jeans, Nowaki pulled out several thin square foil packages, "of course Hiro-san." He smiled, "They're maximally lubricated too."

The professor's stare narrowed, despite his furious blush. "Do you always carry a pocket full of condoms, Nowaki?"

Nowaki tore the wrapper of one with his teeth. He shrugged slightly, "Occupational habit."

He dropped his eyes as he placed the rubber on the tip of his own cock and expertly rolled it down. This was an action he could perform perfectly, almost unconsciously at this point, but he suddenly couldn't bear to look in Hiro-san's eyes as he made this admission.

"Smart," Hiroki said simply. He could see the tall youth's discomfort and felt strangely moved to offer what little he could in attempt to alleviate this.

Nowaki looked up. "Just so you know, Hiro-san, in case it breaks or anything, I just had my last test a few days ago and everything was completely clean."

Hiroki blushed and nodded. The manager, Matsuo, had assured that all of his escorts were disease free when he'd first called to make arrangements, even before he had told the pimp that he wasn't interested in that aspect of the service.

At Nowaki's words, Hiroki lay back down and studied a new crack forming on the ceiling of his main room. His voice was quiet. "I haven't been with anyone since my last test, and that was clean too."

Nowaki felt a wave of relief wash over him that this was as much as Hiro-san felt the need to say about the situation. Now sheathed, he slid between tightly muscled thighs, wrapped his large hands around them and pulled Hiro-san closer to him. Hiroki's slender body slid easily, the bed of bills beneath him rustled lightly over the polished wood floor.

Hiroki bent a lean arm over his eyes as he felt Nowaki lift his now-bent legs up further and kiss the inside of one of his knees.

His new lover had asked for him to be hard, but, despite his best intentions, Nowaki found he couldn't help but be gentle. Soft lips ghosted kisses up the inside of Hiroki's thigh.

Hiroki felt the escort's nose nuzzle beneath his cock; velvety lips and silky tongue brushed the tender skin of his sac. He had been trying to keep quiet but when Nowaki slipped his mouth over the tip of his weeping dick, a low growl of pleasure escaped him.

Spurred on by this, Nowaki sucked deeper. He began to bob his head, lips curled around teeth, his tongue cradling the underside of Hiroki's swollen shaft.

Hiroki allowed himself to be lost in the feeling of this, then, too soon he found the arm not covering his eyes, rise off the floor beside him. His hand sought the top of Nowaki's shaggy head and he pushed against it.

"No," He protested, "I don't want to come until you're inside me."

When Nowaki's mouth left him, Hiroki peered out from beneath the shelter of his arm. He bit his bottom lip seeing the size of Nowaki's condom sheathed erection. The escort was marvelously endowed.

This thought brought back his tattered memory of last night's proposition in the entry. A hot wave of shame washed over him.

Trying to push this aside, Hiroki watched Nowaki put two fingers in his mouth and begin to suck them. He was almost surprised that the escort hadn't been carrying extra lube as well.

Hiroki rarely fucked in his apartment, generally preferring to keep his sexual activities separate from his private life. He did have some lube stashed somewhere in his bedroom: he used it when he pleasured himself. However, even if it caused him discomfort, anxious for Nowaki to possess him and not wanting the man to leave him for a minute, Hiroki remained quiet.

He felt his cock pulse at the sight of what Nowaki was doing: seeing the two long finger's sliding sensually in and out of the escort's mouth was quite a turn on. He could feel the tension in his low belly mounting. Even so, he jumped when Nowaki used the one hand still holding his thigh to suddenly pull him closer.

Hiroki experienced the old familiar sense of panic.

"Wait!" His exclamation belied more of his distress than he'd intended.

"Hiro-san?"

Hiroki lifted his head and found himself looking into deeply concerned eyes.

"Is everything okay, Hiro-san?"

Hiroki drew his leg back out of Nowaki's grip and rolled over onto his side curling slightly. He couldn't meet the worried gaze.

"You have to take me from the back." The heat on Hiroki's face scorched all the way down into his chest. "I never fuck face to face," he softly admitted.

Nowaki leaned over and gently swept his hand down Hiroki's tense back, brushing off half a dozen bills that had stuck to sweaty skin.

"Whatever you want, Hiro-san. I just want to make you happy." The sincerity in Nowaki's voice pierced Hiroki's invisible armor.

Hiroki exhaled a shaky breath of relief that Nowaki didn't question this preference. He rolled over onto his knees, his lean sides quivered with his shame.

Hiroki was furious with himself, as he always was, to find that, even after all these years, he was still unable to master his feelings or his memories. His tremor diminished, however, as he felt a heated palm smooth down his back and softly caress his fear-slick flank.

While Nowaki's mind roiled with questions, he remained silent; intuiting that asking would drive Hiro-san from him. In place of his queries, instead he stroked shivering skin as one might a spooked animal. When he noticed that the professor's shaking had subsided a bit, he leaned his lanky body over Hiroki's tightly muscled back.

Hiroki was shocked when, as Nowaki did this, his memory-induced palsy ceased completely. Rather than feeling dominated by having the escort's tall body stretched over him, he instead felt sheltered…

_Protected._

Nowaki's latexed-length pressed against Hiroki's ass in this peculiar embrace and Hiroki found himself almost grieving when Nowaki slipped off him to kiss softly down the ridge of his spine. Grief spun quickly into shock, however, when these kisses didn't stop when they reached the cleft of his ass but continued downwards.

"Nowaki… What are you?…" The question trailed off as Hiroki gasped.

He felt large palms knead the cheeks of his ass and then spread them as Nowaki's skilled mouth licked down and a hot, wet tongue traced his puckered opening. Hiroki wanted to pull away but to his mortification, as this intimate attention persisted, found himself pressing back instead. Nowaki's tongue was insistent, and moved to meet his motion.

Then Hiroki felt a string of saliva drip down from Nowaki's still seeking tongue, as his mouth lifted. Allowing one of the escort's slicked fingers to join the foray into his interior. The pad of Nowaki's finger was a teasing as his tongue, and just as persistent. Its advance, however, was properly cautious. Hiroki struggled to relax around this careful intrusion.

Once the finger was inside him, Hiroki felt Nowaki's mouth leave him completely.

"You're so tight, Hiro-san," Nowaki sighed, as his finger began to stroke Hiroki's adjusting passage and soon located that particular gland of pleasure.

"Is that it?"

Hiroki could almost hear Nowaki smile behind him as a lewd moan slipped from his lips. He soon felt another dripping string of spit trickle down the crack of his ass to assist the glide of an added finger. As the two continued to massage, he felt the simmer in his sac begin to shift to a boil.

"Nowaki," he panted, "stop!"

Immediately Nowaki ceased pressing against the sensitive bud, understanding that once again, Hiroki was close to his point of no return. His fingers continued to slide, however: Nowaki wanted to make sure that his new love was adequately prepared.

While he would have happily brought Hiro-san to climax and then allowed him to recover, something from their earlier interaction made him feel that it was vital that he heed Hiroki's words and not press too far. He wanted desperately to show Hiro-san that he could be trusted with him.

When Nowaki withdrew his slicked digits, Hiroki expected to feel a cock nudge up against his ass immediately. Instead he was surprised to find the escort hesitating.

"The condom is lubed, Hiro-san, but you're just so tight, and I'm…"

"Huge," Hiroki exhaled softly, finishing the sentence.

"Uh… yeah…" Nowaki chuckled self-consciously before adding, "I don't want to hurt you."

"Just do it!" Hiroki so stirred at this point he didn't think he could stand waiting any longer.

He was surprised then to feel his cheeks parted again and Nowaki's still wet finger slip in and press down. He felt his anxious entrance open in anticipation. He started when Nowaki spit heavily into his twitching hole. Hiroki could feel the heavy warmth of Nowaki's saliva filling him, dripping down, for just a moment before hands gripped his narrow hips and the escort began to push his way in.

This wasn't the first time Hiroki had experienced such an action: being spit into, and yet somehow the sensation was different.

In the past this act always left him feeling degraded, but his time, there was something comforting in what Nowaki had just done, something claiming. This anointing of fluids felt necessary somehow, especially considering Nowaki was wearing a condom, so their joining would be completed without any seminal baptism occurring.

Hiroki felt himself stretch and burn as Nowaki gradually eased into him. He tried to focus on any other bodily sensation to take his mind off the pain of accommodating Nowaki's significant girth. Between measured breaths, Hiroki concentrated on the ache of his bony knees as they pressed against the hard wooden floor, the weight of his body on the heels of his palms.

He could feel the sweat rising to the surface of skin, his panting sides, the backs of his bent knees. A drop slid down from his brow and joined the tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

It bothered Nowaki that he couldn't see his love's face. He wanted to be able to read it, to know that he was not hurting Hiro-san too badly.

He was shocked to find how different this experience felt from any other man he'd previously been with, or woman for that matter. There was nothing here that he hadn't done with clients previously, outside kissing Hiro-san on the mouth, and yet, nothing was same.

Fucking for him had always been more or less a simple act of mechanics. While coming felt great and he was concerned with pleasing his patrons, Nowaki wanted more than to come or to please this time: he wanted to connect. He wanted somehow, desperately, through this joining of flesh, to demonstrate his love for Hiro-san.

"Hiro-san," he called softly. Nowaki watched Hiroki's lean panting sides intently, listened for any change in breathing, any new gasp or moan. As he slid in further he tried to feel any slight start or quiver.

"Tell me if you're okay. Please don't hide your voice from me."

Hiroki leaned down on his elbows, focusing on this new distribution of pressure. He felt a gentle hand trace the new curve of his spine brought on by his shift in posture.

"I'm fine," he growled, "just hurry up already." Once Hiroki had said this, however, he hung his damp head down, suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to weep. His past had been littered with men who were violent or indifferent to his suffering. No one in his life had ever been so careful in the taking of him and the penetration of this realization was more painful by far than the physical sensation.

"I'm almost all the way in, Hiro-san. You feel so amazing… You are so amazing." Nowaki's voice revealed his awe.

Hiroki was ashamed to admit that, while as a youth cruel men had preyed upon him, as an adult he'd often sought them out because their actions just validated his deep sense of worthlessness. He'd come to suffer gladly the physical pain that they inflicted, because there was an end to it. His bodily damage always seemed to fade quickly, unlike the ever-present internal anguish he suffered.

Hiroki's eyes filled with tears, he let out a shuddering gasp at this pointed epiphany.

Hearing this sudden sob Nowaki stilled, he had just finally, fully sheathed himself.

"Hiro-san?" Nowaki whispered. After a pause he began to pull out.

The moment Hiroki realized what Nowaki was doing, he clenched around the flesh inside him. Though it killed his pride to do this he pleaded softly, "Don't… leave… Please, Nowaki, just move. Okay?"

Nowaki was unsure, but he honored the quiet petition and pressed back in. Hiroki exhaled a shaky sigh of relief when he felt the soft velvet of the younger man's sac brush against him as Nowaki slid his sword back in the scabbard.

His motion practiced and deliberate, Nowaki began to slowly thrust in a manner designed to bring the person beneath him the greatest pleasure. As he moved he felt Hiro-san's tension oddly decrease. His own breathing quickened in time to the growling gasps that escaped Hiroki as the professor continued to adjust.

As he felt the flesh surrounding him respond, Nowaki varied his pace, moving faster, plunging deeper. Hiroki felt almost unbearably stretched, simultaneously, he relished the incredible feeling of fullness. Nowaki's balls slapped against the skin of his ass with each thrust, repeatedly connecting with his own swaying sac.

Hiroki could feel the pulsing penetration all the way into his bowels, driving out the hollowness that haunted him. As Nowaki's motions picked up and the escort's cock slid over and pressed against his sweet spot, the burning stretch inside Hiroki built and spilled over into pleasure.

Feeling the rising buzz, Hiroki spit into his palm and moved to grab his throbbing cock, but before he grasped it, a strong arm reached around and clasped his waist.

Once his grasp was secure Nowaki sank back onto his knees pulling Hiroki with him. Hiroki found himself sitting, thighs splayed, impaled on Nowaki's cock.

The escort leaned a shaggy head over Hiroki's shoulder, he buried his nose in the thick hair just behind the professor's ear. The sound of Nowaki's ragged breath's accelerated Hiroki's impending climax. He grabbed his weeping dick with his spit-slicked hand, even as Nowaki continued to rock up under him.

As he began to stoke, Hiroki felt Nowaki's free hand settle over his own and begin to move with his in tandem. After a few moments of this, Hiroki surrendered, dropping his hand, allowing Nowaki full reign as the escort skillfully both thrust and stroked.

Feeling himself begin his ascent, Hiroki's hand returned to his cock, settling atop Nowaki's. He came with a low growl that boiled up from his chest into his throat just as his milky seed did from his erupting cock. Hiroki loosed a surprising amount of cum over his chest and low belly.

He felt his seed seep through his fingers, sealing his hand to Nowaki's

After his release, Hiroki's slick back collapsed against the broad chest behind him. Nowaki ceased his motions. He relinquished his hold on Hiroki's cock, wrapped both arms around and gathered Hiroki tightly to him.

Hiroki's inner muscles quivered and clenched as continued tremors shocked his lean frame and Nowaki reveled in the feeling of Hiro-san tightening around him.

Tipping his head back against Nowaki's shoulder, Hiroki's eyes closed. His mouth hung slightly open as he continued to pant lightly from the power of his release.

Nowaki pressed his lips against Hiroki's neck and whispered. "I love you Hiro-san."

Hiroki didn't respond. After a still, quiet minute he pushed off Nowaki's embrace.

Leaning forward onto his arms, bracing, Hiroki began to move his hips, continuing to ride Nowaki. The when the escort realized what Hiro-san was doing he leaned forward gathering Hiroki to him again.

"Hiro-san, you don't have to do this," Nowaki murmured into Hiroki's sweaty nape.

"Shut up idiot, I'm not leaving you unfinished," Hiroki growled, pulling Nowaki with him as he leaned forward again. "But hurry up because this floor is fucking killing my knees."

Nowaki was touched by this consideration, as almost all of his previous experiences were focused on generating pleasure for someone else, with little thought given to his own.

"Yes, sir, Hiro-san…" Nowaki smiled against Hiroki's shoulder as he began to move once more.

* * *

><p>After Nowaki came the two men lay together on the floor for a short time.<p>

"Definitely using the bed next time," Hiroki grumbled, "You're right, Nowaki, this floor is far from comfortable."

Nowaki was curled behind and around Hiroki. He tucked a damp strand of sweat-dark hair behind Hiroki's ear and smiled. He was completely content regardless of how the floor felt against all his hard angles. It was enough that he was here with Hiro-san and that the man had just clearly said "next time" thrilled him immensely.

Restless now, Hiroki stirred; Nowaki followed. The pair got up, if a bit stiffly, from the floor. Hiroki wandered into the bathroom to clean up. While he was doing this Nowaki stripped off his condom and threw it in the bin in the kitchen. After that he washed his face and hands, rinsed his mouth, re-donned his clothes, and started clearing away the things from the breakfast table.

He was washing the dishes when Hiroki emerged shower-fresh from the bath for the second time that day.

"You don't have to do that, Nowaki." Hiroki leaned backwards alongside the counter next to the younger man.

"I don't mind, Hiro-san. Besides, I just finished." Nowaki set the last bowl on the drain board.

"Do you want to take a shower?"

Nowaki smiled at the gesture. "That's very kind of you, Hiro-san. But I have to go to the gym before work so I'll just be getting sweaty again anyway. I'll just plan to take my shower there."

"The gym?" Hiroki asked curiously, though what he really wanted to ask Nowaki about was work.

"Ummmm," Nowaki murmured. "I have to go five days a week or Matsuo docks my pay." The escort dried his hands on a small hand towel and began moving out of the kitchen.

Hiroki stood there a moment, trying to process the situation. There was a part of him that was shocked to hear that Nowaki just planned to go back to escorting like nothing had happened after his declarations and what had just transpired.

At the same time, even without fully understanding Nowaki's situation with Matsuo, Hiroki was mature enough to realize that just up and leaving the escort service was completely unrealistic.

_With his lack of education, what kind of job would Nowaki be able to secure? How would he support himself? _

Plus, regardless of what Nowaki had told him, it was ridiculous to think that someone would abandon his livelihood for a person he'd just met.

Hiroki watched Nowaki move towards the door, walking through the still scattered bills on the floor. His pride told him to just stay in the kitchen and let Nowaki go without hesitation, but against his inclinations, Hiroki found himself trailing silently behind.

He watched, leaning against the entry way wall, arms crossed over his chest as Nowaki slipped into his shoes.

"Do you have to work tomorrow, Hiro-san?" Nowaki asked as he straightened.

Tomorrow was Sunday. Hiroki had planned to do some grading and work on a new lecture, but other than that his day was free. "I might have to go into the University in the afternoon," Hiroki offered cautiously.

Nowaki leaned over and picked up Hiroki's house keys from the surface of the low table in the entry where he returned it before making breakfast. He held them up.

"Do you have a spare?"

Hiroki's brow furrowed. "Yeah why?"

"Good, I'll keep this one then, "Nowaki slipped the key to Hiroki's apartment off the ring and into his pocket as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

The crease in Hiroki's forehead deepened but he didn't say anything.

"So, I'll come by tomorrow after work and we can have breakfast together again and then you can help me prepare for the placement exams. Sound good?" Nowaki flashed Hiroki his breathtaking smile.

Hiroki shocked himself by merely nodding.

Nowaki opened the door to go, then he turned back and stepped over to Hiroki once more. He surprised the professor by gently ruffling long fingers through his newly-damp hair.

"I'd kiss you good bye, Hiro-san... I rinsed my mouth, but you know where it's been…"

Nowaki shrugged and looked only mildly embarrassed, which was fine because Hiroki was blushing more than enough for both of them.

"Don't say such embarrassing things, Nowaki," Hiroki muttered.

"Next time I'll remember to bring my toothbrush," Nowaki offered amicably. Then his expression grew serious.

"Hiro-san… my going to work… You know, the heart and the body are separate things. Right?"

Nowaki rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean… while I might share my body with someone else, there isn't anyone else I will ever share my heart with… I hope you can understand that, Hiro-san…"

Hiroki could see the deep pain that had suddenly blossomed in Nowaki's eyes. He dropped his eyes to the ground. His cheeks grew hot thinking about how many men he'd been with over the years, pretending at the time they were Akihiko.

"Yeah... " Hiroki looked back up and met Nowaki's eyes evenly. "Look, I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast. Okay?"

The look of relief that flooded Nowaki's blue eyes all but broke Hiroki's heart.

"Thank you, Hiro-san," Nowaki breathed. "I knew you were amazing the moment I saw you." He leaned in and pecked Hiroki on the forehead and then realizing what he'd done, grinned sheepishly

"Sorry, Hiro-san."

Hiroki rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand in pretend annoyance. "Yeah… Now go on, Brat." He nodded to the door. "You don't want to get docked or be late for work or whatever."

Nowaki just smiled gratefully and stepped through the door closing it behind him.

As soon as the escort was gone, Hiroki heaved a deep sigh. He moved quietly back into the main room. He stood several minutes just staring at the loose bills that still lay scattered on the floor.

Silently he stepped into the midst of the mess and sat down cross legged on the floor.

_What in the hell is this, Kamijou? What have you just gotten yourself into? _

No clear answer came to him, so instead of looking for words to apply to his new and curious situation, Hiroki leaned over and plucked a bill up off the floor. Then he grabbed another one, content to just sit there in silence, gathering up all the scattered pieces: the price of the previous evening.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, there you go. This was the longest single chapter lemon I ever wrote. Hope you still find it as pleasing Alcuzey. Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers and my silent readers. See you next chapter. <strong>


	16. Chapter 16: Turned

**The Escort **

**Chapter Sixteen: Turned**

* * *

><p>Dark eyes opened at the sound of a key in the lock. Hiroki turned over in his futon and glanced at his bedside clock. It was one a.m.<p>

_Nowaki is home early._

Since the day Nowaki had taken the apartment key, he had returned each morning, as soon as his escort duties ended.

"_Home"…_

Hiroki wondered that the word entered his thoughts so easily. He'd only known Nowaki five weeks and yet, the younger man had somehow seamlessly slipped into his life. Given his past relationship experience, this surprised him.

Hiroki closed his eyes again as he waited for Nowaki to join him.

He had never been a good sleeper, his nervous temperament and frequent nightmares had long disrupted his slumber. So he had been astounded to discover that, as soon as Nowaki had begun joining him in his bed, sleep came easily and he was able to rest fully and deeply.

The effects of this were noticeable too. Even, Miyagi had commented the day before on how much less disheveled he was looking in the mornings and had playfully asked for the brand of whatever eye cream it was he'd started using.

Shifting his attention from his annoying superior, Hiroki listened as Nowaki went through his returning rituals. He had come to understand that Nowaki, doing what he did, needed a certain amount of time to process afterwards. His little quirky routines helped this.

The refrigerator door opened and Hiroki could picture Nowaki as he took out a can of cold tea. His fridge had begun to be much better stocked since the younger man had started staying with him. Hiroki knew that his lover would now spend the next ten minutes slowly sipping his tea as he stood at the kitchen counter. Hiroki had already learned that if there were dishes left in the sink, Nowaki would wash them before exiting the kitchen. So he had been making sure now that the dishes were always done, in order to get Nowaki to bed more quickly.

Once his tea was gone, Nowaki would go to the bathroom, take a piss, wash his hands and face, brush his teeth, and come to bed.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hiroki finally heard the water in the bathroom turn off. The door to his bedroom creaked softly open. A moment later, after Nowaki had stripped, Hiroki felt the mattress shift as his lover slipped onto the futon and under the sheets. Forgoing pajamas was another new thing Hiroki had started doing: Nowaki slept in the nude and the feel of this heated flesh against his own had become a balm for all his raw places.

Carefully, Nowaki shifted closer, draped a long arm gently over, and pulled Hiroki to him. Nowaki nuzzled into the back of Hiroki's neck.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up when I came in, Hiro-san." This had become Nowaki's standard greeting.

"Hmmm…" Hiroki tried to sound sleepy. "What makes you think I was awake?"

Nowaki rose just slightly and placed a light kiss on Hiroki's cheek before settling back down; this time nestling his chin over the sleep-wild, brown head. "I can always tell by your breathing."

The arm draped around Hiroki pulled him tighter. Hiroki felt Nowaki's radiant warmth, both physical and emotional, soak into him. He breathed a deep sigh and took in the smell of fresh soap and shampoo.

Nowaki always went to his own apartment after work and showered there before coming over. It was another one of his rituals. Hiroki had offered, a few times now, use of his shower in the secret hope it would bring his lover back to him sooner, but each time Nowaki politely refused.

Washing immediately after work as means of purification was something Nowaki had done as long as he'd been escorting, but now it was also one of the ways he made the transition from his life as an escort to his life as a lover. It had pleased him immensely when Hiro-san had offered his shower, but he strangely felt the need to keep this ritual private. Besides, over the last several days, he'd found the time he needed to spend in the shower in order to feel really cleansed increasing considerably and he didn't want to add unnecessarily to the professor's water bill.

Above Hiroki, Nowaki exhaled a long breath.

What Hiroki didn't realize was, that being close like this, skin to skin, was equally soothing for Nowaki. He had spent his whole life drifting, and whenever he took his Hiro-san in his arms, it never failed to immediately make him feel anchored. Despite his blustery temperament, in the midst of a stormy existence, Hiroki had become his safe harbor.

"So, how was work?" Hiroki asked lightly.

"Fine." Nowaki sighed again. He ran one large, gentle hand over Hiroki's forearm. The touch sent a sweet shiver down Hiroki's spine.

"And the University?" Nowaki asked back.

"I think sometimes I'm the only one there that's not an idiot."

Above him, Hiroki could feel Nowaki's grin.

Hiroki tried hard not to think about the things that his lover did during the times they were apart. He had decided from the start that he would just treat Nowaki's job like any other. Generally he tried to ask as few questions as possible beyond the basic "how was your day? Tonight however, he pushed farther.

"You're home early."

Behind him, Hiroki felt Nowaki stiffen just slightly.

"It was an easy job tonight."

The tenseness in his lover's lean body told Hiroki he was pushing past the comfort zone. He ducked his head a bit as though Nowaki could see his furrowed brow in the dark.

"Good, it's nice to have you here." Normally he would have never made that kind of overt declaration but he felt bad for making Nowaki uncomfortable.

Understanding that he was not going to be pressed further, Nowaki relaxed. He was also pleased by Hiro-san's confession. He had learned quickly such words from his lover did not come easily or often.

"I could have taken another job, but then I would have come in just as you were leaving." Nowaki waited for Hiroki to respond and when his didn't, he offered, "I missed you, Hiro-san."

Now it was Hiroki's turn to stiffen just slightly.

"Well, speaking of missing, if I miss any more sleep I am going to be in a hell of a mood tomorrow morning." Hiroki then added for clarity, "more so than usual, I mean."

Nowaki understood. He smiled again, snuggled in a bit deeper, and breathed contentedly, "I love you, Hiro-san."

"Yeah… goodnight." Hiroki had not yet returned such a declaration equally, but saying this in response seemed to be enough for Nowaki.

From within the shelter of strong arms, Hiroki listened, and very shortly Nowaki's breathing evened out and deepened. Hiroki knew that his lover had drifted off to sleep: Nowaki had no trouble sleeping it seemed. But rather than finally slip easily into slumber now himself as he had anticipated, what Nowaki had told him had gotten his mind churning.

He and Nowaki had touched briefly on his escorting a few days ago in a gentle game of questions and Nowaki had reluctantly confided that he had a contract he had to fulfill and alluded to an additional loan he was paying off, though he hadn't specified what it was for. All Hiroki had been able to ascertain beyond this basic information, was that Nowaki's manager, Matsuo, was not the kind of man one didn't make good on business agreements with. It was also obvious that Nowaki was intent on solving his issues with Matsuo himself.

Considering this, while it pleased Hiroki greatly that Nowaki had come home early, it also bothered him too.

_By not taking that additional job, Nowaki just gave up a commission and needed extra income. He isn't going to be able to get out of his contract any quicker if passing up work becomes a habit._

Hiroki wondered what he should do or if he should say anything. Despite the fact they were lovers, he didn't feel like he really knew Nowaki well enough yet to approach him about such a matter.

Instead then, for the moment, at least, Hiroki resolved that he would do whatever it was he could to continue to help Nowaki with his education so that when he did finish his contract, the man would be in a better position to face the world. He was certain that if Nowaki was ever given a chance, he would undoubtedly be successful. This was one thing that, even in their short time together, Hiroki knew to be true without a doubt.

He had been surprised to learn in their first few days together that Nowaki had been dead serious about furthering his education. Hiroki had really expected their "study sessions" to rapidly devolve into fuck-fests. He been impressed when he quickly discovered to the contrary that not only was the young dropout committed, but, despite his lack of education, Nowaki was really amazingly bright.

After just two weeks of hard study, Nowaki had passed his high school equivalency test with perfect marks. He still had just a bit of work to do in his English proficiency but within another week or so he would be ready for his college placement exams. Hiroki had been relieved that Nowaki's shortcoming was in an area he had quite a bit of experience in and could really be of assistance. Rather than science or math, which he was more proficient in than he'd admit, but he didn't consider his strong suits.

Fortunately, Nowaki excelled in these areas.

The younger man's natural brilliance and his gentle but intense, dogged persistence had been making Nowaki all that much more attractive as a lover. It also made Hiroki hopeful in a way, which both stunned and frightened him.

Tired eyes stared off into the darkened space of his book-filled bedroom. Hiroki supposed it was this hope that had caused him to behave as he had lately with Akihiko.

For three days after the night of the lecture, Akihiko had tried to reach him. He'd even shown up once at the University. Hiroki had been shocked at himself, as usually he would have done almost anything to be able to spend time with Akihiko, but instead, he had taken great pains to evade his friend.

And although he felt guilty for this, Hiroki was even more relieved when Akihiko had left for a book signing tour before they'd connected. And though the author had called numerous times in the weeks he'd been traveling, Hiroki had not answered once when he'd seen his friend's number come up. His responses to Akihiko's increasingly frantic and multitudinous texts, too, were sporadic and terse.

Yesterday, however, Akihiko had returned from the tour and texted, demanding to see him. Hiroki felt a greasy ball of unease roll in his stomach as he thought about meeting his unrequited now: he'd reluctantly agreed to see his friend at the University in the later hours of this new day.

Gently, Hiroki grasped Nowaki's hand and drew it up to his chest. He bowed his head and placed a soft kiss on long fingers. He was only able to do this because he was sure his lover was deeply asleep now.

Hiroki knew, as he'd always known in some way, that Akihiko would/could not love him. He had come to realize, however, the truth in what Nowaki had said to him the day after their "date." Despite how broken and unworthy he felt, or maybe even more so because of this, he did want to be loved. He desired deeply to receive love; not just give it or hold it in that painful place of waiting and longing.

And yet, now that Nowaki had offered him this, invited him to receive, suddenly it seemed something in the tone of Akihiko's communications with him had changed, especially in his unrequited's most recent attempts to contact him.

Hiroki was stunned with how his heart had been turned; unexpected tears filled his eyes.

He realized he really wanted to try and make a go of things with Nowaki, as crazy at it seemed, given all their differences, and the difficulties of the escort's situation. But he knew that the connection he was feeling to the young man sleeping so peacefully beside him, however deep it might be seem in this moment, wouldn't hold if he was in contact with Akihiko again.

Hiroki willed these thoughts out of his mind but they would not leave.

_Fourteen years versus five weeks._

Behind him, Nowaki shifted. Hiroki gently kissed his new lover's hand again and closed his eyes. He felt a hot tear slip between his heavy lids and roll down his cheek.

* * *

><p><strong>It's been a few days. But here I am again, moving forward. Thank you for reading and please review.<strong>


	17. Chapter 17: Wake Up Calls

**The Escort **

**Chapter Seventeen: Wake Up Calls**

* * *

><p>It seemed to Hiroki as though he had just drifted off when he was gently awakened by a heated mouth trailing kisses over the surface of his naked chest and a skilled hand massaging his morning-hard cock.<p>

Hiroki's eyes opened slowly, partly from his reluctance to leave the world of his dreams and partly because of the tender but electric sensations that were drawing him from it.

Looking down, his drowsy gaze was met with amazing, blue eyes, filled with warmth and a slightly mischievous light. Hiroki felt a pang of conviction pierce him, given all his mental turmoil about Akihiko just a few hours earlier. It hurt to see Nowaki so happy. Even worse was the fact that Hiroki had no desire to make the younger man stop.

A curtain of heavy, black bangs obscured Nowaki's enticing orbs momentarily when, seeing that Hiroki was now awake, he dropped his head and began to swirl a hot tongue languidly around a stiff nipple.

Hiroki gave a growling groan and in his still-sleepy state, unconvincingly tried to push the younger man away.

"What have I told you about molesting me in my sleep, Nowaki?"

At the question, Nowaki lifted his mouth from the nipple. He blew softly over the teased spit-slick tip of it, drawing another low pleasured growl from Hiroki.

"But it's the best way to get you up, Hiro-san."

Nowaki raised himself up just slightly, his hand gripped Hiroki's stiff cock a bit firmer and gave it a long stroke. "In more ways than one," he softly chuckled.

The escort had been concerned the first few times he watched his new lover awaken, witnessing how fast Hiroki's mind accelerated into its almost perpetual state of frenzied cogitation. Nowaki found that offering Hiro-san an immediate "distraction" of sorts slowed this down and allowed the professor to enter his day in a milder state.

Nowaki was resting partially propped and curled on his side facing Hiroki, while the older man lay on his back. Then Nowaki's hand left Hiroki for a moment and a long, strong arm slid under his knees, pulling Hiroki towards him. Nowaki draped his lover's legs over his own lean muscular thighs, positioning them so that, if the pair had been upright, Hiroki would have been sitting in his lap.

Hiroki covered his eyes with a bent arm, embarrassed that he'd allowed Nowaki to so easily move him.

"Idiot, if I come, I'm just going to want to go back to sleep."

Nowaki smiled at the mild protest: this morning exchange was becoming familiar. He leaned in and Hiroki started beneath the blind of his arm when he felt the gentle press of warm lips against his own. Nowaki lightly kissed the frowning mouth and then nuzzled a morning-rough cheek.

"That's why I woke you when I did, Hiro-san." Nowaki's sweet voice soothed as long fingers followed the thin wisped trail down Hiroki's flat, low belly. They tickled the trimmed tangle of Hiroki's lower patch before they brushed against his cock again. "I figured I could get you off and then you can sleep for another forty-five minutes."

There was a part of Hiroki that was a little annoyed by Nowaki's timetable and the surety with which his new lover said this. He prided himself on his endurance, but he also had never known anyone with the skill or the control in giving a hand-job or a blow-job that younger man had.

No one had ever been able to affect him the way Nowaki did. His lover could reduce him to an adolescent sensitivity that had him coming in minute. Or he could tease and forfeit release in the most pleasurable torture: the previous Sunday, Nowaki had introduced him a particular "start and stop" technique that had kept him on the brink of an orgasm for over an hour.

Hiroki lifted his bent arm slightly and offered Nowaki a stern stare. "And what about you?"

"What about me?" Nowaki asked curiously.

Hiroki frowned and blushed. "What if I want to return the favor?" If nothing else, such an action might alleviate some of his guilt.

Nowaki smiled again at his lover's consideration. "Well, then in that case, if I don't hold back, I guess you'll only get to sleep for another forty minutes."

Hiroki's folded arm clamped down over his eyes again.

"Fine." Though he was trying to sound peevish, to his chagrin, Hiroki thought he ended up sounding much more pleased.

Then he heard the familiar sound of a snap top being popped. Ever since Nowaki had started staying with him, he had made sure his supply of lube was constantly stocked.

After silently cursing the weakness of his flesh, Hiroki bit his bottom lip and tried not to groan, when after a teasing minute of stillness as Nowaki let the fluid warm in his heated palm, the younger man encircled his stiff dick at the base again and stroked upwards.

Nowaki looked down as he worked Hiroki's hard length. He loved Hiro-san's cock. The sight of it, lube-shiny, flushed dark with blood in his hand as it slid up and down, stirred him immensely.

As he massaged he listened with a trained ear for cues of Hiroki's pleasure. He could tell Hiro-san was stifling his voice so he leaned in and captured his lover's mouth in a kiss. As his hand continued to move; his probing tongue parted Hiroki lips, releasing a sharp gasp.

Because they had just woken, out of consideration, Nowaki did not slip his tongue fully into his lover's mouth; rather he focused on the surface of Hiroki's lips, brushing and licking, offering teasing pulls and gentle nips.

Beneath him Hiroki boiled with the touch. The flesh of his lips and his cock stirred simultaneously.

It had shocked Hiroki when he'd learned that Nowaki never kissed his clients. The night of their "date" had been the first and only exception and this knowledge made every touch of their lips even more electric.

When Nowaki ceased his series of kisses, he heard his lover's shallow, panted breaths. The hand, not slicking Hiroki's cock, tenderly pulled a few dampening strands of hair out from under Hiro-san's still-obscuring arm.

"Breathe, Hiro-san," Nowaki sighed into Hiroki's mouth as he sought another kiss. Whispering his lips now down his lover's blushing throat he murmured, "If you take deeper breaths you'll feel the sensations more intensely."

Nowaki watched as Hiroki cautiously heeded his instructions and he observed that within a few moments Hiro-san's hand resting among the tumbled sheets was gripping them tightly. Nowaki relished witnessing his lover as he tried to hold back, but still he wanted to see more.

"Hiro-san…" Nowaki's voice gently treaded into his lover's pleasure. "Will you please look at me? I want to see your face when you come."

He watched as Hiroki's arm lowered tighter across his hidden eyes. He felt the man tense beside him.

"No. I told you before I won't do that…" Hiroki's sharp words were cut off by a low growl of pleasure as Nowaki's dick-filled hand shifted its motions, adding a slight twist to the stroke just as it reached the edge of his sensitive head.

"Okay, Hiro-san," Nowaki's tone was mild. When he felt Hiroki's continued tension, despite his assurance, he leaned his head down to kiss along his lover's jawline. Both men felt the friction as their morning-stubbled skin brushed.

This was not the first time Nowaki had made such a request and each time Hiro-san's answer had been the same. The older man never offered a reason for this particularity, and Nowaki never pushed for an explanation, believing his lover would reveal himself one way or another when he was ready.

Nowaki continued to kiss and nip down his lover's throat until he felt Hiroki begin to relax again, his hand never ceasing its varied rhythms.

Despite the anger and the embarrassment Nowaki's request elicited within Hiroki. These emotions were swept away relatively quickly as the tingled build rose up within his balls and overflowed down his shaft.

"N-Nowaki…" Hiroki's breath had grown ragged and shallow again as his tension mounted.

Nowaki's eyes flickered over to the illuminated numbers on the clock that sat on the book-cluttered nightstand. Realizing this, he dropped his eyes and shook his head in disgust with himself for this automatic reflex. Suddenly he was glad Hiro-san wasn't looking at him.

Shifting his gaze, he watched the quiver of his lover's tight belly, felt the tension in Hiroki's thighs. "No, not yet," Nowaki teased as his hand stopped its stroking.

"Fuck!" Hiroki growled in frustration when Nowaki's hot hand left his cock and his lube-slicked skin suddenly cooled in the room's chilled, early-morning air.

"Fuck!" He repeated a moment later, but this time for an entirely different reason.

Nowaki had shifted and Hiroki felt the lubed hand grab his shaft again, but tight at the base now to keep him from coming. Nowaki's other hand slid down between his legs and began to tease his balls.

Hiroki hated how wanton Nowaki's touch made him, but he couldn't resist it. He felt his lewd body betray his prideful mind as his thighs opened exposing himself, giving Nowaki more access. Hips thrust as he tried to make the restraining hand at his base ease him. Nowaki teased further, allowing some friction and then withholding.

Nowaki glowed with pleasure at how Hiro-san responded to his attentions. He watched Hiroki's head tip back, beneath the shelter of his arm, the strong length of his throat pulled taut, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly with his labored breaths. Hiroki's growling gasps increased as Nowaki shifted from fondling the tender sac to stroking the skinned seam between this and his lover's tight entrance, massaging Hiroki's prostate externally.

Cresting waves of pleasure crashed over Hiroki and reoccurring jolts coursed through his groin. Pride and pleasured-pain collided as the tension continued to mount. Nowaki's firm grip prevented him from climaxing, but even so his dick was thickly weeping. Each time he thought he might be reduced to begging for release, Hiroki dug a bit deeper and found a new reserve of endurance.

Watching his lover, Nowaki could tell Hiro-san was reaching his limit. While there was a part of him that longed to hear Hiroki's sweet pleas, he had also become acutely aware of the fragility of the other man's pride.

As Hiroki's frustrated grunts became increasingly articulate, Nowaki knew that soon, whether his lover wanted to or not, a plaintive word would soon follow. Rather than force this however, he released his grasp and slid his hand up Hiroki's pulsing shaft in a flurry of strokes.

The forthcoming plea turned into a primitive cry of release.

Nowaki's large hand covered the head of Hiroki's cock and was immediately filled with milky spurts of seed. He felt the legs draped over his own tremble as Hiroki came.

When all his lover's ecstatic convulsions finally ceased, Nowaki gently unhooked Hiroki's legs from his. He sat and grabbed some tissues from the bedside stand and wiped down his sticky hand. Then he turned and curled himself back into the bed, lower down. He leaned his head down and kissed the saltlick in the glistening hollow of Hiroki's hip.

Nowaki rested his cheek against his lover's low belly.

As he did this he felt Hiro-san shift as the arm that had been covering dark eyes lifted and drifted down. Kind fingers tangled mildly in thick black locks. Nowaki loved the way Hiro-san stroked his hair, the touch was intimately affectionate and shyly uncomfortable in equal measures. There was something in the tender, brusque order of Hiro-san's awkward post-sex petting that he found infinitely soothing.

"Come here, Nowaki."

Hiroki's graveled command drew Nowaki's inky head back up to the pillows. As Nowaki settled down, he looked earnestly at Hiroki.

For a moment, in his sated state, Hiroki forgot to be guarded. He studied the face of his new lover as though Nowaki were some ancient text he was determined to decipher. There was a look of quiet wonder in his eyes.

Nowaki felt a rare blush fill him; the corner of his mouth curled up. He was not used to such tender contemplation. This slight movement was enough to break Hiroki out of his reverie. He immediately dropped his eyes and refused to lift them again.

Nowaki didn't mind, he covered Hiroki's lightly-stubbled cheek with his hand, kissed the furrowing brow, and then bowed his head, pressing their foreheads together. Even though Hiroki's openness had lasted only a moment, it was enough. The memory of those few seconds, were all Nowaki needed to get him through the next night's unending hours.

After resting for a few minutes Hiroki drew back. He propped himself up and ran his hand along Nowaki's, rippled torso down to the hard length of his cock. He'd felt the younger man's arousal the instant Nowaki had initially moved him. This was not the first time he was awed by his lover's incredible staying power.

Hiroki leaned over and kissed the dip between Nowaki's collarbones. He gently put a hand on a shoulder pressed the taller man over onto his back. Hiroki sat then and leaned down, firmly pushing Nowaki's slightly drawn up knees apart.

He slipped over between his younger lover's thighs. He held himself up off Nowaki on muscular arms. Hiroki's mouth licked and softly bit its way down. He would have liked to have sucked Nowaki's skin hard enough to leave marks, but he knew that his lover needed to keep his flesh as unmarred as possible.

He slicked down the smooth skin all the way to Nowaki's cock.

Matsuo required all his stable to be hairless, waxed and shaved. The pimp said it was for cleanliness and because it made his boys look bigger, but in truth it was also a way for him to reduce them: it was a forced demonstration of their obedience and a daily reminder of who they belonged to.

Hiroki had been with other men who kept themselves similarly for personal reasons, but with Nowaki, he never tired of the smooth revelation of his lover's lower half, the silken glide of the soft flesh beneath his tongue.

Nowaki's skilled attentions drew out his competitive nature and, though it wasn't a contest, in light of how accomplished his younger lover was, Hiroki felt the need to up the ante somehow. Besides, try as he might to accept what Nowaki did, it was difficult for him not to feel insecure, not to wonder how he compared to the others his lover was with.

Hiroki's oral skills were quite accomplished; in fact when he was younger, in certain circles they were legendary, and he wanted to make sure that he sent Nowaki off with a good reason to return to him.

As the wet heat of Hiroki's mouth engulfed him, Nowaki moaned softly and shifted. He wrapped long fingers into the thick sweat damp mane that soon bobbed below his waist.

"Hiro-san…" His usually light voice had taken on a rumbling edge. "Hiro-san," he gave a shuddering gasp as Hiroki's mouth slid off him and he felt his lover's skilled tongue slip down to further stir his already buzzing sac.

"Ah," Nowaki panted, "Hiro-san… you… don't have… to do this."

He felt the older man's head lift beneath his hands.

"I know that! Shut up and enjoy it, Dumbass!"

That permission was all it took.

Nowaki relaxed as he felt his hard shaft sheathed once again in the velvet heat of his lover's mouth and swallowed deep into Hiroki's throat. One of Hiroki's hands gripped the uncovered length that remained and stroked in tandem with the cadence of his mouth.

Between this combination of motions it didn't take long to bring him to the edge.

"Hiro-san," Nowaki gasped.

Hiroki heard the warning and slipped his mouth off. He felt Nowaki shift and heard a rustle above him. Hiroki reached up with the hand not still holding the younger man's dick and Nowaki pressed some tissues into it. Hiroki used these to catch his lover's pleasured eruption as he continued to stroke until Nowaki was entirely spent.

Hiroki sat up and threw the seeded wad into the trash. He clamored out from between Nowaki's legs and lay down beside him again. The look of loving gratitude in Nowaki's eyes made him uncomfortable. So, after offering Nowaki a nod, instead of the kiss he would have liked to have bestowed, Hiroki rolled over putting his back to his lover.

Hiroki didn't realize he'd tensed, fearing Nowaki's response to this last action, until he felt an arm slip around him and gather him in. He felt his back pressed against the comforting mass of Nowaki's broad chest and as soon as their sweaty skins met, Hiroki's stiff posture immediately melted.

Nowaki kissed a damp nape. "Thank you Hiro-san, that was amazing."

Despite his best efforts, Hiroki felt the corners of his mouth quirk up slightly. He forced a frown back on them. His eyes slowly closed. "You said forty minutes, right?"

Nowaki raised his head just enough to glance at the clock, this time without any guilt. "Mmmmm, forty minutes, it was perfect," he murmured, nestling back down and drawing Hiroki closer.

_You're perfect._ Hiroki thought to himself as he pulled Nowaki's arm tighter around him and drifted off almost instantly.

* * *

><p>Hiroki started awake when his alarm went off forty minutes later. He was disappointed but not surprised that the other side of the futon was empty. Still he supposed it was probably for the best, since if Nowaki were still with him, he wouldn't want to get up.<p>

Even now, he wondered if he should allow himself to drift until Nowaki felt compelled to come rouse him again as he'd quickly learned the younger man would do. As he drew a deep breath and stretched following these contemplations, however, he could smell the pleasing fragrance of Nowaki's cooking. This moved him to rise on his own.

Out in the kitchen clad in only boxers and an apron he'd found in one of the kitchen drawers, Nowaki hummed contentedly to himself as he prepared breakfast.

It did not embarrass him at all that he liked domestic activities. He'd helped out quite a bit with such tasks growing up in the orphanage because it had pleased his warders and endeared him to the staff. Besides he enjoyed feeling useful and taking care of others had always just sort of come naturally for him.

He watched with secret pleasure as Hiro-san crossed the hall from the bedroom to the bathroom stark naked, carrying his clothes, mumbling to himself and running a hand through his wild hair.

As soon as Hiroki was out of his vision, Nowaki dropped his eyes back to his cooking. He raised them again as he watched Hiroki cross back over the hall once more a moment later. Hiro-san had obviously forgotten something. He smiled to himself: it was cute how scattered his professor was in the morning.

On his second trip to the bath, Hiroki paused in the hall when looked up from the internal lists he was going over to see Nowaki happily grinning at him from his place by the stove. Hiroki scowled at this imagining the word "cute" rattling around somewhere in the brat's head.

Hiroki snorted with feigned disgust when his scowl only made his lover's smile widen. Shaking his head at Nowaki's easy amusement he pushed his way back into the bathroom.

Nowaki had just finished setting the low table when his phone rang. He went over to the kitchen counter where it was sitting to retrieve it and sighed loudly when he saw it was Matsuo.

"Kusama!" Matsuo growled forgoing any pleasantries.

"Yes, good morning Matsuo-san."

"I want you in my office at three today." The manager's voice was harsh in his ear.

"Is there a problem?" Nowaki asked cautiously. His client last night had prepaid and Nowaki had given half of his tip to the driver so there wasn't any reason he should need to see Matsuo.

"We have some things to talk about, upcoming clients… And you have a repeat I want to discuss in person. He wants you for a long weekend."

"The whole weekend?"

Nowaki inwardly groaned. That was the only time outside of the snatched, scattered hours in between sleep that he got to spend any real time with Hiro-san.

"What the fuck is with the attitude Kusama? Where's your enthusiasm? You should be giddy. This should make up for what you've been coming up short since you haven't been doing double duty like usual."

Just then Hiroki emerged from the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day. He was finishing buttoning up his dress shirt.

"Nowaki have you seen my striped tie? I thought I'd hung it on the back of the door last night, but it's not there."

Hiroki lifted his eyes from his buttons. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were on the phone." He sat down at the low table, his cheeks pinking.

Nowaki smiled uncomfortably and nodded in apology as he quickly moved to the small sliding door and then out onto the balcony.

Matsuo had heard Hiroki's voice. "Who the hell was that?"

"I have a boyfriend," Nowaki said simply after he'd closed the sliding glass door behind him.

"When the fuck did this happen?"

Nowaki ignored his manager's question. "Other escorts have them, I was never informed it was forbidden." He tried hard to keep his voice even.

"And if it was?" Matsuo's voice had grown slightly dangerous.

"I love him."

"Ahhhhhhh," there was a tone of sudden comprehension underlying the sneer in the pimp's voice.

Nowaki remained silent but his heart was pounding.

"Your date tonight is at nine and it will most likely go all night, so let your _lover_ know you won't be in till morning," Matsuo said coldly. "And, Boy, you better make sure your ass is in my office by three today!" With this admonition he hung up.

Nowaki let out a shaky breath as he snapped his phone shut. A tremor caused by the fierce anger he'd been holding back shivered his lanky frame. After he took a moment to compose himself he headed back inside.

The conflict in his heart doubled when he saw his Hiro-san, sitting at the low table, reading glasses perched precariously on his nose, engrossed in a book. Hiroki had gotten up and brought all the food to the table, but was waiting for Nowaki to return before he began serving himself.

For both men, having taken so many of their meals alone, eating together held a special significance.

Nowaki felt his mood lighten when Hiroki looked up from his book. His dark gaze was concerned, but Nowaki was grateful when Hiro-san didn't question. Instead he muttered, "Soup's getting cold."

"Ah, sorry Hiro-san," Nowaki smiled. He quickly untied the apron and pulled the neck strap off over his head.

"What's that?" Hiroki asked, as he set his book to the side.

Nowaki was draping the apron over the counter, when Hiro-san's anxious question caught him.

"What?"

Nowaki looked down following the direction of his lover's inquiring gaze. His boxers had slipped low on his narrow hips, revealing a rather raw looking abrasion on one of them.

"Oh, that's nothing Hiro-san. I guess I must have just gotten a bit over zealous, scrubbed too hard in the shower last night." Nowaki offered the truth unconsciously, before he was even aware of it.

Hiroki dropped his eyes immediately, his cheeks growing hot. He was angry with himself for not noticing it earlier when they were in the bedroom and he was deeply grieved by the implications of his lover's words.

"Ah, Nowaki, the breakfast looks really good, but if I don't get a move on I'm going to be late," Hiroki growled uncomfortably, not looking up.

Nowaki looked at the clock, there was still time. He moved over and sat down across from Hiroki. He knew how important the professor's job was and normally he'd never try to obstruct him from his work in any way, but Matsuo's call had really unnerved him.

"I understand, of course, Hiro-san, I wouldn't want you to be late, but would you please consider just ten more minutes? It would be better for you to eat something."

Hiroki had thought to tell Nowaki he would pick something up on the way, but when he glanced up, the sadness in the blue eyes pierced him. He found himself suddenly reaching for the rice.

"I set your homework out in the bedroom." Hiroki's usually fierce tone was mild.

He held the rice bowl out. Nowaki took it gratefully and their fingers touched in the passing. Both men let the bowl hang between them for a moment, relishing the subtle connection.

"Thank you, Hiro-san. I'll be sure to get it done," Nowaki promised, his happiness quickly returning.

Each day after Hiroki left, Nowaki would return to bed for a few more hours of sleep, then he would rise and diligently do his studying to prepare for his tests. Once he'd finished this he would usually do some work around the apartment before going to the gym or attending to his other job related duties.

"I don't have to work until nine tonight," Nowaki offered pouring a cup of tea for himself and refilling Hiroki's automatically.

"Can I pick you up at work, Hiro-san? I have an appointment at three, but I could come by after." Nowaki's returning contentment ebbed a bit as he considered his meeting with Matsuo.

"I have an appointment at three thirty." Hiroki picked his book back up, hiding behind it to conceal his discomfort.

The meeting was with Akihiko.

"So don't trouble yourself. I have no idea how long it's going to last." Frowning behind the barricade of his text, Hiroki wondered what Akihiko might have to say and how he was going to explain his recently shunning behavior to his best friend.

The rest of the new lover's short meal together passed in silence as each man considered his impending confrontation.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading and please review.<strong>


	18. Chapter 18: Tumbling Down

**The Escort **

**Chapter Eighteen: Tumbling Down**

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><p>After eating Nowaki took their bowls over to the sink and began to rinse them; he filled the basin with steaming water.<p>

"I can finish cleaning up, Hiro-san, you go on ahead to the University."

"No, you made the meal, it's only right I help put things away." Despite his assertion that he needed to leave, and the quiet haste with which they'd consumed their breakfast together as a result, Hiroki found himself hard pressed not to linger.

He moved into the kitchen and picked a few items up off the counter. Hiroki looked at the unopened cans he held in his hands, things Nowaki had brought out and hadn't ended up using in making their meal.

The money Nowaki was spending on groceries worried him.

"Nowaki, you need to stop bringing so much food over, I'm running out of room in my cupboards. Besides, if you just make a list I'm happy to pick things up on my way home from the university."

"I know, I go overboard sometimes," Nowaki admitted sheepishly. "I guess it's just after spending all those years at the orphanage where all our meals were so ordered and things were so often limited, I just like having access to variety if I want it."

The truth was deeper than this, however.

With his size and his rapid growth as a child, Nowaki had often been terribly hungry. As he eventually became the oldest child at the orphanage, he was expected to be a role model and could never complain about the ache in his belly and any extra portions were always given to younger, "needier" wards. As a result of this scarcity, Nowaki found he needed this one area of slight excess in his life to really feel comfortable: for him a bursting cupboard was incredibly soothing.

Nowaki didn't talk much about his life at the orphanage but Hiroki knew it couldn't have been easy. In fact, it was amazing to him that he was able to maintain such a cheery and optimistic disposition, given how bleak his life must have been. Hiroki remained silent, hoping that Nowaki would offer more information; he had come to cherish each little bit of his history that Nowaki gave him. The man's infrequent disclosures were like missing pieces to a complex puzzle he was trying desperately to solve.

Hiroki frowned as he looked back down at cans.

Nowaki turned around from the sink quickly when he heard a crash and Hiroki suddenly yelped.

"Fuck!"

A number of tins were now rolling around on the counter and the floor. Hiroki grimaced and clutched the front of his left shoulder.

"Hiro-san, are you okay?" Nowaki moved over quickly, an expression of concern filling his handsome face.

"Goddamn cans fell out! One hit me… I think it broke my fucking collarbone!" Hiroki worked hard to suck in his snarl, blinking back the unexpected tears the pain had brought to his eyes.

"Oh Hiro-san, I'm so sorry!" After the conversation they'd just had Nowaki felt horribly convicted. "I'll rearrange the cupboards today so that things fit right." His hands moved immediately to loosen Hiroki's tie and open his shirt to make sure his lover wasn't too badly damaged.

"Sorry, Hiro-san," Nowaki apologized again.

Hiroki slapped the worried hands away.

"I'm fine,Nowaki; it's not like I'm fragile or anything!" Hiroki growled, despite his assertion of a few moments earlier that he'd been broken. Then he looked up and, seeing the chagrin in Nowaki's eyes, he felt his anger quickly leave him.

"Besides, it wasn't your fault." Hiroki reluctantly admitted. He looked away as a blush crept into his cheeks. "I brought some things home last night too.

"You had the cupboards perfectly ordered and I just shoved things in, knowing I was overloading the shelf. What happened was the result of my own stupidity." It pricked the professor's pride to admit this, but he couldn't bear to see the pain on Nowaki's face.

Nowaki realized immediately the price Hiroki was paying to reassure him and he felt badly, after all, Hiro-san was the one that was hurt.

"You're right though, Hiro-san. If we're going to keep eating together we should devise a better system. I think your idea about the list is really good."

Hiroki was further mollified by Nowaki's concession, despite the fact that his collarbone still ached fiercely. Glancing away again from Nowaki's worried scrutiny, his eyes fell on the clock.

"Gahh!… I really do need to go now!"

Long fingers scrambled to re-button his shirt.

Darting out of the kitchen and into the hallway, Hiroki stopped momentarily in front of the mirror to straighten his tie and run a hand through his brown mane, unsuccessfully trying to bring it to order.

Nowaki had followed him silently to the entryway.

Hiroki bent as he went to slip his shoes on.

"You don't have to clean up the mess I made in the kitchen, Nowaki. Leave it and I'll pick it up when I get home tonight." He stood and was stunned to feel Nowaki's lips suddenly on his, as both his bag and his coat were pressed into his hands.

"You might want to take an umbrella too," Nowaki murmured as he pulled reluctantly away. "They said it might rain this afternoon."

Dark eyes fell on his umbrella as Hiroki frowned at the advice. He glanced back at Nowaki who was standing there, still clad only in his boxers and the apron he'd re-donned to save his skin from the splash of scalding dishwater.

"I think I have one at the office."

Grabbing his keys off the table, Hiroki headed to the door. "I'll see you later." With this, he stepped out of the door closing it firmly behind him.

Outside the apartment, Hiroki stood for a moment. Nowaki's kiss at the door had filled him with the sense his life had somehow entered a gay version of some nineteen-fifties domestic-themed sitcom. Never in all his imaginings had he anticipated anything akin to that kind of existence for himself.

Shaking his head at this thought, Hiroki headed down the walkway and off in the direction of the train station.

Inside the apartment Nowaki stepped back into the kitchen. He was worried. Hiro-san's face when he'd kissed him at the door had a strange expression on it.

_Maybe Hiro-san's shoulder was still hurting, or maybe… Did I make him unhappy somehow? _Nowaki was suddenly filled with an alarming sense of insecurity.

He returned to the kitchen and surveyed the open cupboard, the tins on the counter and the floor that had come tumbling down. As he knelt to pick up the cans, though he wasn't normally superstitious, he hoped that this wasn't some kind of an omen portending the future for him and his beloved Hiro-san.

* * *

><p>The indecisive morning sky had turned into an solidly overcast afternoon.<p>

Nowaki had finished at the gym and was now leaving the train station on his way to see Matsuo. The building where the pimp had his office wasn't far and Nowaki was glad for the chance to walk.

He had spent his hours at Hiro-san's rearranging the cupboards and making a complete inventory of their contents. He'd set up a new system for listing what was needed too. Then he'd had tackled his studies before retiring for a few hours of much needed sleep.

The escort smiled to himself; he felt so grateful for all Hiro-san's assistance. Nowaki felt confident that he would be able to pass the entrance exams with little difficulty.

_Hiro-san is such a great teacher. _

He had come to relish their study sessions: each one just reinforced for him how amazing his lover was. Hiroki was firm and demanding, but he was also patient in unexpected ways. Nowaki loved the intense but quiet delight that would fill the man's eyes when their discussions would meander into an area that Hiro-san was really interested in. Or Hiro-san's expression when he finally grasped some complex concept the professor been trying to impart.

When they had time together, Nowaki relished watching Hiroki as he was completely engrossed in his own research, or thoughtfully going over his students work, no matter how mundane the assignment. Witnessing this, he was envious of Hiroki's regular students. He hoped they appreciated how fortunate they were to have such a dedicated professor.

The sound of his cell phone broke Nowaki from his reverie. He looked at the number and a particularly sad smile took hold of him. He flipped open his phone as he walked.

"Hello, Mama Kusama!"

"Ah Wa-chan," a pleasant female voice chirped on the other end of the line. "I'm so glad you answered! Why haven't you been by to see us in so long? All the children have been asking about you."

"I'm sorry, Mama Kusama," Nowaki apologized to his foster mother.

The woman had founded and managed the Kusama Orphanage with her husband for over thirty years. Many things had changed since the couple had first started their mission to care and find homes for abandoned children. For one, the lady Kusama's husband had died not quite three years ago and now the woman was running the place on her own. For another the orphanage was now providing for almost three times the number of children it had when Nowaki had been first left on their doorstep.

Despite these difficulties however, now at age sixty, the tiny spitfire was just as active in the day to day operations of the facility as she had been when she'd first started it and she still did the best she could.

"I've been busy with work, Mama-san," Nowaki explained, reverting to the name Kusama-san's foster children called her. "But you're right, I'm sorry I haven't visited in a while. Maybe I'll try and come next week sometime."

"Ah, Wa-chan, you were always the industrious one," Kusama-san laughed. "No need to apologize, son, I know how busy you are. I just really called to tell you _thank you_... I got your check in the mail yesterday. You must be doing very well now."

"I do okay," Nowaki hummed. "I added a little more this month too because it sounded like you could use it."

"Ah sweet, Wa-chan, you have already done so much." The woman's voice suddenly sounded just a bit teary. "I still can't believe what you did for us after the fire, my dear boy."

"It was nothing," Nowaki murmured uncomfortably. "I was happy to help. That's what families do, no matter their configuration. Right? Isn't that what you taught us?"

"Some of our more successful wards could stand to take a few lessons from you," The lady Kusama sniffed, sounding uncharacteristically bitter. "I wish Papa-san was here to see what a wonderful man you've become, Wa-chan."

While Nowaki was still grieved by the death of his foster father, he was sure the man wouldn't be at all happy to see what had really become of their longest held ward.

"Mama-san," Nowaki hesitantly changed the topic of their conversation "Would it be alright if I brought someone with me the next time I visited?"

"Oh, ho!" Kusama-san's voice quickly lost its melancholic tone. "I knew there was something besides work that was keeping you from us! So, when do we get to meet your new lady? Two years you were with that last one and never once did you bring her out to see us!" Mama Kusama scolded.

Nowaki drew a deep breath. "Actually, Mama-san, it's a him not a her..."

"Ehh?... What do you mean it's a…" Kusama-san sounded confused. Then her voice lost both its confusion and its warmth. "Wait… What are you telling Mama-san? Are you saying you're…"

Nowaki cut Kusama-san off before she could finish. "Yes, Mama-san. I'm a homo." Now that he'd finally said it, he rushed forward.

"I care a great deal about him, Mama-san, and I'd like him to know me. I thought it might be helpful if he could see where I grew up."

"Mama-san…" Nowaki called softly into his phone when the woman remained silent after he'd stopped speaking.

"Suddenly I'm glad Papa-san isn't here," Mama Kusama said after Nowaki had called her name a second time. "Wa-chan, I'm surprised you'd tell me such a distasteful thing in this way. This isn't a conversation I want to have with you over the phone."

"I'm sorry, Mama-san, please forgive my thoughtlessness," Nowaki offered contritely. His heart was heavy with the woman's response but he really hadn't expected it to be different.

"I'm just really happy right now and I wanted to share that with you. And you did always say _families have all different kinds of configurations_."

"Ah… I suppose I did, but I didn't mean… Look, Nowaki-kun, one of the helpers is calling, I have to go."

The melancholy had returned and multiplied in Mama Kusama's voice. "I worried, you leaving us as you did, so young, that, you might get pulled astray... But this?… I know you're a good boy… And that life can get confusing at times… Come see me soon, Nowaki-kun and we'll sort this out."

Kusama-san hesitated and then added, "And please don't bring… that _other person_ out, until we've had a chance to talk… I don't want to send confusing messages to the children. They have enough to deal with already, as you well know."

Nowaki felt a sudden anger rise in his chest in equal measure to the sadness he'd been feeling. He wanted to respond to her hypocrisy: being close minded when she had always articulated acceptance.

He felt compelled too, to defend what a wonderful man Kamijou Hiroki was and relay more clearly what Hiro-san meant to him. He also wanted to tell her she should be grateful he was what he was, since this had, in no small part, enabled him to give the orphanage the support he had.

Instead, Nowaki found himself bound to act as the dutiful son he had always yearned to be, but never truly was, despite the fact he carried the Kusama name, or more accurately the name of the institution.

"Yes, I know the children have a lot to deal with and I wouldn't want to trouble them, of course. I apologize for my poor manners too, and that my news distressed you, Mama Kusama."

"Ah, that's my lovely, Wa-chan," Kusama-san's voice filled with relief that Nowaki had not pressed the issue or forced a scene. "I'll speak with again you soon, if I don't see you first." Then Mama Kusama added before hanging up, "I have always counted on you to do the right thing Wa-chan…"

Nowaki closed his phone and turned it off as he looked up the building where Matsuo had his office. His former guardian's words still echoed in his ears.

_The right thing…_

Though it had seemed so at the time, Nowaki suddenly was no longer sure… but worse than the increasing conviction that he'd done the wrong thing, was the fact that now he had no idea how to fix it.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading and the reviews. Now the drama really starts.<strong>


	19. Chapter 19: Magic

**Disclaimer: I do not Okane ga Nai/No Money or any of its characters.**

**The Escort**

**Chapter Nineteen: Magic**

* * *

><p>Because of the clientele Matsuo's upper tier escorts served, his business fronted as modeling agency.<p>

As he sat in the reception area, Nowaki saw several other escorts he knew, though he didn't approach them. The handsome youths held postures that varied from bored to exceedingly nervous as they waited in the plush chairs scattered about the room. Nowaki also noted Matsuo's regular bodyguard standing _outside_ the pimp's office door with a man he didn't recognize, but who carried the same aura of menace.

That could only mean that some _serious_ business was going on inside.

Looking down at his folded hands, Nowaki tried to keep his mind off what possible sorts of negotiations might be taking place in the pimp's office. He knew that escorting wasn't the only game Matsuo played, though he tried to keep his knowledge of what the man was involved in down to a minimum.

Raising his eyes again a few minutes later, Nowaki saw a tall blond with spiky hair seated across the room from him. He immediately recognized the guy as a small time pornographer. The blond caught his eye and Nowaki nodded politely. This was all the encouragement the other needed to rise and change his seat to the empty chair beside him.

"Kusama-san," the blond greeted with a quick bow before settling in. "When are you going to break down and finally star in one of my films for me?"

"I've told you before, Gion," Nowaki forwent the honorific to emphasize his distaste for the man, "I have no desire to be in one of your 'films'… Ever."

Gion overlooked the slight easily; he was used to much worse rudeness on a regular basis from his "Nii-san."

"Oh come on, Kusama-san, it would make you a pile of money!" Gion's eyes glowed with a feverish enthusiasm. He wiggled his heavy brows at Nowaki. "And knowing Matsuo as I do, the interest on your contract and your expenses must be killing you."

"I said 'no.'" The tone of Nowaki's quiet voice clearly told the pornographer that he was trespassing now on dangerous ground. "My business is none of yours; so kindly keep out of it."

Gion was about to respond with a light retort, as was his way, when suddenly Matsuo's bodyguard stepped to the side and the door to the office opened.

Two figures emerged and man who had been standing with Matsuo's body guard stepped in behind them. Nowaki felt his blood run cold.

He recognized the taller of the two immediately. He'd seen him often at one of Matsuo's clubs, though the man hadn't been around for a while. His name was Kanou Somuku and he was one of the most feared loan sharks in all of Tokyo.

At the sight of Kanou, every escort in the room tensed. The cultivated looks of arrogant disinterest held by several of the young men immediately evaporated and for good reason: Matsuo had been known to sell off an escort's contract to Kanou when he was displeased with him.

In addition to his loans, Kanou also dealt in flesh and the trafficking the loan shark dabbled in was far less civilized than Matsuo's.

The powerfully built gangster had his arm around a tiny blond, dressed in some ridiculous couture costume. The delicate looking waif didn't even reach Kanou's chest and looked barely out of adolescence.

Gion stood immediately and Nowaki joined him, adopting and holding a low bow as the loan shark approached.

"So you wanted to make money, Ayase? Well there's your choice. You can either work for Matsuo fucking strangers or we can continue with our prior private arrangement for repayment of your debt. Understand?"

"Yes, Kanou-san," the tiny blond's light voice was weighted with unshed tears.

"So what's it going to be?" Hard eyes pinned the boy demanding an answer.

The broken-winged angel fluttered for only a minute before dropping his head. "I..."

Kanou caught his pet's fine jaw in a huge hand and lifted Ayase's chin. "Yes?"

The room was so silent the slide of tears down Ayase's pale cheeks was almost audible.

Overlarge, blue eyes blinked and new tears fell. Ayase whispered, "I-I want to stay with Kanou-san... Please..."

After a long silent minute of intense scrutiny, Kanou gave a curt nod and released his boy's jaw. He placed a possessive hand on a trembling, thin shoulder and tucked Ayase under his wing, pulling the blond along with him as he strode out of reception. "Homare get the car."

Kanou's guard moved quickly ahead of his boss and his boss' boy to comply with the order.

"Come on, idiot," Kanou growled as he passed by Gion, ignoring Nowaki completely.

"So cruel, Kanou-san!" Gion playfully whined, ignoring the dark look this earned from the loan shark. "See you, Kusama-san, and don't forget my offer," the pornographer called as he trailed after the unusual pair.

Nowaki had hardly straightened from his bow when he heard Matsuo's voice call out.

"Kusama, get that luscious ass of yours in here." The pimp stood in the door of his office, a sour look on his face. "I don't have all day!"

Quickly, Nowaki moved across waiting area and followed Matsuo into his office. They were followed by the bodyguard who took his usual place at the back of the room.

As he moved into his office, Matsuo was muttering.

"Fucking Kanou! I thought he was actually serious for a minute there. That little blond whore of his would've been worth his weight in gold. I can think of thirty guys who'd offer their right nut to fuck that tight boy-pussy."

Still grumbling, the flesh king ascended to his leather throne behind a huge, polished wood desk.

Nowaki offered his manager a bow. Matsuo didn't offer him a seat, so he remained standing.

After settling himself, Matsuo gave his dark stud a thorough once over. Nowaki could feel the man's eyes crawling over him as vividly as if it was the pimp's actual fingers. Staring at the young man before him, holding his bow, Matsuo shifted gears, moving out of his earlier annoyance.

"You know you're not as dumb as you look, Kusama." Matsuo chuckled as though he was bestowing some great compliment. The pimp tapped out a cigarette from the pack on his desk and lit it. He blew the smoke in Nowaki's direction.

"I have to admit, I've been a little pissed you haven't been pulling all those extra tricks lately, but you know, it seems your repeats had gotten rather used to having you whenever they wanted and your sudden scarcity is creating a rather high demand for your services.

"People have started increasing their offers for your time."

Nowaki's eyes widened at this information, but he otherwise kept his face impassive and remained silent.

"So, tonight you have a repeat request from Kobayashi Kondo, for an all-nighter. But this time he wants to take you to dinner first… Such a gentleman." Matsuo laughed again. "I guess he has a business meeting he wants you to accompany him to also."

Nowaki had to work hard to suppress a grimace, knowing from previous experience Kobayashi, though incredibly rich and well thought of in certain circles, was a pig. Kobayashi would want him to bottom and more likely than not, would demand to go bareback, which Matsuo allowed certain privileged clients to do, granted they paid more, of course.

"He's offered triple your usual fee," Matsuo smirked through a plume of smoke. "That should _almost_ cover the interest you've missed paying down recently." The pimp watched with some satisfaction as the young man in front of him struggled to fight a losing battle with himself.

Breaking his boys down was one of the perks of his business and thrilled Matsuo far more than any act of the flesh ever had. While Nowaki's ability to remain somehow above what he had been doing had been amusing the pimp, hearing the news about Kusama's new love interest that morning had, for some reason, particularly pissed Matsuo off.

Yes, Matsuo had decided he had at last grown tired of being so lenient with his prize stud and was determined now to get down to the business of making Kusama his for good. Or at least until he wanted to drop him to the sharks.

"Also, like I said on the phone, I have you booked for the weekend. Again, it's a repeat. You're such a popular guy, Kusama," Matsuo drawled.

"It's that American doctor, Sam Carter. He's wrapping up a conference in Tokyo for the Pediatrics Association of Japan and he's taking you to Hokkaido. He wants to meet you on Friday afternoon at his hotel. He said to tell you to 'pack light' as he's taking care of everything."

Nowaki felt some of his tension leave him at this information. He hated leaving Hiro-san for the weekend, but he'd entertained the doctor before and while there would be sex, Carter was really more interested in having a pleasant companion.

This sense of relief shriveled immediately however when Matsuo began speaking again.

"Usami Haruhiko's also been calling for you… Incessantly." Matsuo's eyes took on a sly glint when he saw the tall youth immediately stiffen at the name of the oldest Usami brother.

"I said I didn't want to see him again," Nowaki's voice was mild, but his normally warm blue eyes had grown exceedingly cold.

Dragon-like, Matsuo blinked his reptilian eyes and breathed out another long plume of smoke. "And yet, Usami continues to say he feels terribly about how things worked out the last time. He's still willing to take you on a proper date to apologize."

"Still 'no'?" Matsuo locked gazes with Nowaki and cocked his head. "Well, then how about this?

"He said he would also pay off a quarter of your loan (although in truth it was half) if he could watch you fuck Yukio for a night. Just watch, mind you, Kusama."

Matsuo's words stirred Nowaki's anger. "You told him about my loan?" His voice rose louder than he'd ever before dared to allow it in a conversation with his pimp. "You had no right to do that!"

This brought Matsuo to his feet immediately. "Who the hell do you think you are Kusama? I have every right! Until your contract is up and your loan's paid back, I own your ass!

"In fact, you should be on your knees thanking me for not selling your debt off to that jackal, Kanou, 'cause I can fucking guarantee there'd be no luxury weekends to Hokkaido once he got a hold of you!"

Matsuo's broad chest heaved with his anger. "Now I don't know what kind of magic you've worked on Usami, but the man has more money than sense. And if he wants to waste it buying the your worthless skin, frankly that's fine with me!"

"Usami's a great client and you're not fucking this up! You and Yukio are doubling to welcome him home when he gets back to Tokyo from a business trip next week."

The pimp watched his words sink into man standing before him, but he could still see the resistance in Nowaki's eyes.

"Still so proud," Matsuo's voice dropped down to a hiss that was far more deadly than his earlier raging. He stubbed out his cigarette in a silver ashtray on his desk.

"Maybe you'd like me to pay your old Mama Kusama a call and tell her where that loan came from that saved her and all of her brats after that fire they had? Or…"

Matsuo's tone took on an even more sinister edge. "Or maybe I send someone else to visit and the next fire kills more than five sniveling brats and some dried up old man."

A chill coursed up Nowaki's spine and his eyes widened at these words.

"You wouldn't."

Matsuo stepped around from behind his desk. He moved over to Nowaki and stood in front of the escort. Ring-laden fingers reached up and moved to push black bangs away from shocked blue eyes.

Nowaki started to pull away until he heard the bodyguard behind him shift. This stilled him and he found he could do nothing but to allow Matsuo's greasy hand to caress him. He felt coarse fingers drift over his cheek. A thick thumb brushed across his bottom lip.

"I told you when we first met, I wanted us to do business together, Kusama. I knew a goldmine when I saw it. But you were so resistant…

"How do you know it wasn't me that started that first fire? Knowing what a foolish do-gooder you are and how you feel about those orphans." Matsuo's voice was ice cold.

"Oh, that's right… You don't."

Nowaki's mouth gaped in horror at the possibility that had just been proposed. He felt his legs give way at the thought that Matsuo might have very well done it… or hired someone to do it, simply because he had originally resisted coming to work for him.

_Matsuo wanted me indebted to him... But would he?..._ Nowaki knew in an instant the answer was "yes."

He staggered lightly and his long limbs folded; Nowaki suddenly found himself on his knees before Matsuo. He bowed his head and tears filled his eyes. The memory of Hiro-san's morning accident flashed through his shell-shocked mind: how everything that had seemed contained so neatly had suddenly opened and come crashing down.

A sob caught in Nowaki's throat at the thought that he could have been the cause of the Kusama children's death; that his refusal had brought about the death of his foster father.

His chest hitched when he felt Matsuo run his thick fingers through his hair and take hold. Nowaki's shoulders began to shake as he heard the pimp's belt buckle clink and the whisper of a zipper pulling down.

Matsuo's calloused hiss filled his ears.

"Now then, Kusama... Why don't you show your owner your thanks for what I'm _not_ going to do by giving me a demonstration of what a good little escort you can be…

"Come on… share that Kusama magic with me."

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><p><strong>Fuck, I forgot how dark this story was... And we're not done with the angst by a long shot.<br>**

**Thank you for reading and for all your poignant reviews.**


	20. Chapter 20: Reign Fall

**The Escort **

**Chapter Twenty: Reign Fall**

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><p>Hiroki was mightily annoyed.<p>

His collarbone, while not broken, had been ached throughout the day where the can had hit him; his students had been particularly unruly; and he found his mind continually drifting back to the image of a nearly naked, aproned Nowaki at the most inopportune times.

On top of all these other irritants, he'd finished his classes and had been supposed to meet Miyagi across campus from their office in one of the University's administrative buildings: they were part of an interdisciplinary team, meeting to discuss issues of faculty mentoring.

He'd waited twenty minutes for the senior professor to show up (of course fifteen of those were early) before going to the meeting alone. And while it had been merely an overcast sky when he'd gone inside the building, when Hiroki emerged from the tedious affair, it was actively raining. Hiroki spent ten minutes under the building's awning hoping futilely for a break in the weather. Then he glanced down at his watch and realized, since the discussion, of course, had gone over, if he didn't get a move on he'd be late for his appointment with Akihiko.

In the short time it took him to raise his book bag over his head and dash across campus to return to the Hall of Language and Literature he got drenched in the downpour. His dripping clothes left a patchwork of puddles from the building's front entrance to his office door.

Hiroki was just about to open the door when it moved on its own accord and he almost collided with a flushed looking young man leaving the office. No sooner had the boy run by him, than Hiroki found himself face to face with a stunned Miyagi.

"What the hell?" Miyagi barked in surprise seeing his drenched subordinate.

"What do you mean, _what the hell_?" Hiroki growled pushing past. "Where were you?"

"What do you mean, _where was I_?" Miyagi looked perplexed. "I was here meeting with some thesis students."

"That hardly looked like a thesis student, more like a middle schooler."

A flush filled Miyagi's cheeks but only for an instant. "He's a freshman, with some extraordinary talent, and I am giving him some extra guidance. He came by with a question after the thesis students left."

"Well, speaking of 'guidance,' Professor, we had that mentoring meeting to go to at the teaching center. You were supposed to meet me there!"

"Oh, yeah…" Miyagi hummed, completely undisturbed by this news. "I forgot all about that. How was it?"

"How can you admit your irresponsibility so easily?" Hiroki demanded.

"Meetings like that are boring," Miyagi sighed, stepping back into the office and heading over to his desk. He pulled up his gym bag from where it sat on the floor beside his chair and began rummaging through it.

"Besides you were there to represent us and I'm sure you took excellent notes."

Hiroki frowned at this. He had taken excellent notes but he sure as hell wasn't inclined to share them now. He dropped the bag that contained these when Miyagi startled him by thrusting a white towel into his hands.

"Here take this. You look like a drowned rat. I bet you're soaked all the way through to your shorts."

Hiroki eyed the towel suspiciously.

"It's clean, Kamijou, I just brought it from home today."

When his junior didn't move, Miyagi plucked the towel from Hiroki's hands and draped it over his rain-sodden brown head. He began to rub the towel gently. Hiroki allowed himself to be lulled by the soothing motion for exactly five seconds before he began batting at his senior.

"I'm fine. Professor. Enough!"

"Oh, come now, Kamijou, don't be so cold… Besides, you look so cute like that. Come on; let's get you out of those wet things before you catch a fever." Miyagi's hand drifted down and suggestively grabbed the front waistband of Hiroki's slacks.

"I said, enough!" Hiroki growled, raising his hands to push Miyagi away. The older man, however used his grip on Hiroki's belt to pull him closer.

Hiroki raised furious eyes and found himself pierced by Miyagi's intense, dark-blue gaze.

"What the hell? I thought you told me you weren't a homo!" Hiroki wanted to shove Miyagi back, but his senior had pulled him so close he couldn't get the leverage he needed.

"I'm not." Miyagi said smoothly, as he leaned in closer.

Hiroki had the sudden terrible realization that Miyagi just might try and kiss him. The man's mouth drew closer as he frantically tried to pull back.

"Ahem."

The two professors froze at the sound of a genteel throat clearing. Their heads swiveled in unison to see Akihiko leaning casually in the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, a closed wet umbrella leaned against the wall next to him.

'"Excuse me gentlemen," Akihiko's voice was calm, though his brow was significantly creased. He cocked an eyebrow at Hiroki.

"I hope I'm not disturbing anything, but the door was ajar. Hiroki we had had a meeting scheduled for now." His eyes drifted down to the expensive watch on his wrist.

Miyagi jumped back from his junior. "Ah hah, I got it!" he said a little too loudly. "Now that eyelash won't be bothering you any more Kamijou. How it didn't wash away as wet as you are, I'll never know."

Glancing down at his own watch, Miyagi feigned surprise. "Ah… look, now I'm late to meet with some of my students in the library. Oi, Kamijou, how troublesome you are."

Miyagi grabbed his briefcase from the corner of his desk. He bowed as he passed by Akihiko on his way out into the hall. "May I say again what an inspired lecture you gave all those weeks back, Usami-sensei," Miyagi mumbled as he slipped past the author.

Akihiko just offered a semi-polite smile and nodded.

"Lock up, okay, Kamijou. I probably won't be back here until tomorrow," Miyagi called, sounding entirely too hearty.

"Good idea," Akihiko said quietly, but loud enough that Miyagi heard as he closed the door on Hiroki's senior.

As soon as the door shut and Miyagi was gone, Hiroki let out a huge sigh of relief.

"What the hell was that about, Hiroki?"

Hiroki blushed as Akihiko moved towards him. "That's just Miyagi being Miyagi."

He started when Akihiko stepped closer and took up where Miyagi had left off, placing his hands on the towel and gently rubbing his wet head.

Before he'd met Nowaki, Hiroki would have given anything for a moment like this: Akihiko's touch was so tender. He closed his eyes and exhaled a deep sigh, but Hiroki realized, after a moment, that what he was most conscious of, was how he could feel the cold of Akihiko's hands even through the soft knit of the towel as opposed to Nowaki's comforting warmth.

"Does he do that often?" Akihiko's voice was rich with concern.

"Ummmm?" Hiroki gently grasped Akihiko's wrists and pulled the cool hands away. "Yeah, but he's just teasing."

"That didn't look like teasing." Akihiko stepped back, took off his coat, and draped it over the edge of the office's ratty sofa. "You should be grateful it was me and not some student or your jealous boyfriend that happened through your partially opened door."

Hiroki was about to respond to these comments when he caught his friend's movements. "What in the hell are you doing, Akihiko?" Hiroki gaped as Akihiko began to unbutton the dress shirt he was wearing.

Lavender eyes held him. "Do you have a spare shirt here?"

"N..no," Hiroki stammered, his cheeks suddenly growing hot.

"So, then it's simple: I'm giving you mine," Akihiko said this as though the matter was already settled. "Be sensible, Hiroki… I have a dry t-shirt under this and I'll put my jacket back on. But you, my friend, are wet to the very bones of you. "

Hiroki snorted. "I don't need your shirt, Akihiko! I'm just fine as I am."

"Hiroki, don't be stupid." Akihiko's voice was lightly scolding. " I know how cold you get, Old Man. Take my shirt. We'll go to my car, I'll turn the heater on, and we can go out and get coffee somewhere, or I'll take you home if you want."

Something in his friend's voice disturbed Hiroki. Akihiko had always been kind, but there was a subtle difference today, like a fine instrument that has just started to go out of tune.

Hiroki frowned.

_It's probably because I've been so elusive lately... Of course Akihiko is slightly off._

"Okay." Hiroki hesitated before he loosened and pulled off his tie. He began to unbutton his shirt.

"So, why have you been avoiding me, Hiroki?" Akihiko asked quietly.

Hiroki's dark head shot up from the buttons he'd been contemplating. He watched as Akihiko finished unbuttoning one of his own cuffs and gracefully slid out of his shirt before he raised a pale gaze.

As soon as their eyes met Hiroki scowled and looked down.

"I haven't been avoiding you," he lied lamely.

Seeing Akihiko staring at him with his unblinking lavender eyes, Hiroki found himself strangely irritated. "I mean, I have a busy life, Akihiko; I work more than full time most weeks… I have a boyfriend... I can't be at your beck and call my entire life, can I?"

Both men's eyes widened the instant he made this declaration. Hiroki had said similar things before, but never quite so truthfully. The two friends were very aware, that there was a new tone here as well.

Akihiko surprised Hiroki by sighing. "You have been a very faithful friend to me, Hiroki. And I'm sorry to say that I know I haven't always appreciated this as I should have."

Stepping up to, Akihiko held his shirt out. "I missed you, Hiroki. I want to be a better friend…"

Hiroki was embarrassed by these sentiments. He looked away blushing as he slipped his own shirt down off of his shoulders.

"You're a fine friend, Akihiko," he assured. He pulled his tee-shirt off over his damp head and reached for the garment the author was holding out without meeting Akihiko's gaze.

"I'd like to be more…" Akihiko said softly.

"What?" Hiroki was sure he'd misheard, until he felt his friend's fingers graze his own.

Before Akihiko could repeat his confession his eyes slipped down and saw Hiroki's shoulder where it had been hit that morning. Hiroki was startled when the fingers that had been brushing him so gently suddenly gripped his wrist, _hard_.

"What is that?" Akihiko demanded, though his voice was little more than a whisper.

"What?"

Hiroki glanced down and saw the angry, dark bruise where the can had made contact. He suddenly realized too, that his torso was peppered with marks Nowaki's mouth had made during their various intimate moments.

He'd been changing in front of Akihiko since they were small boys so the action had seemed so casual he'd completely forgotten about them.

"Did _he_ do this to you, Hiroki?"

"Who? Miyagi?"

"No, Kusama!" Akihiko shouted in exasperation. "Is that why you haven't been in touch? He's been hurting you?… Keeping you from me?"

Hiroki looked at Akihiko in bewilderment. He tried to pull his wrist out of Akihiko's grasp but found it held tight. This sense of restraint triggered something in him and he felt a violent fury well in his chest.

"What is wrong with you, Akihiko? You're acting crazy!

"The bruise was an accident and the other marks… Surely you know how such things are made." Dark eyes glared at Akihiko fiercely. "One thing you can rest assured of, however, is that Nowaki wouldn't hurt me!" Hiroki tried again to wrench his arm free.

He snapped, when Akihiko still wouldn't relinquish his grasp. "You on the other hand!"

"Come on, let go!"

Finally managing to pull away Hiroki threw the shirt back at Akihiko before he began massaging his grasp-chafed wrist. "_No one_ has been keeping me from you but _me_. I just haven't wanted to talk with you, Akihiko! Okay!"

Akihiko looked down at the rejected shirt in his hand and then back up at Hiroki. The professor stood shirtless before him, the towel draped around his neck, lean sides heaving.

"Why on earth wouldn't you want to talk with me, Hiroki? I'm your oldest friend."

Akihiko's eyes were filled with pain and the sight of this pierced Hiroki to the core.

Hiroki looked down as he struggled to find the words to explain it, though he could hardly understand it himself. He was shocked to feel his own eyes fill with tears. He started to raise his gaze, but found he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Because I'm happy, Akihiko," Hiroki whispered at last. "And I'm afraid if I'm around you, I'm going to lose this."

The power in the simple truth of these words, stunned them both.

"Are you saying that you've never been happy around me, Hiroki?"

Hiroki had to pause to think about this.

_No..._ it wasn't that he'd never been happy with the man, but underlying any moment of lightness there had always been a bitter pain too. Hiroki was aware that there was also a pain beneath his happiness with Nowaki, but despite everything they were facing, the undercurrent there, somehow, was amazingly sweet.

"No, it's not that…" Hiroki's brow furrowed. "Why now, Akihiko?"

"What do you mean, old man?"

"I mean, what about all those years you said you loved Takahashi? Are you telling me you can just let that go so easily?"

Akihiko stepped up to his friend again; each hand took an end of the towel around Hiroki's neck.

"The night of the lecture I had an epiphany, Hiroki. I saw something I hadn't seen before... and something... something I'd locked away a long time ago, shifted inside me.

"Do you think that a man can't change his mind? Just because something has been, doesn't mean it should always stay that way."

At these words from Akihiko previous night's ruminations came back to Hiroki.

F_ourteen years versus five weeks._

Hiroki thought of Nowaki rubbing his skin raw in the shower, trying to purge himself of his previous hours work so that he could come home pure to him.

_When I am so soiled myself._

He remembered Nowaki's words the first time he confessed: _"Then don't you think it's time that you had the chance to receive what you have so faithfully given? Please Hiro-san… allow me to love you now."_

A dozen images were suddenly conjured in Hiroki's mind: looking up from his books to see Nowaki sitting across from him, focusing so intently on his studies; watching the man hang their laundry out on the line, the sun glinting off Nowaki's shiny black hair. The younger man's expressions as they walked down the street together, Nowaki's eyes always eagerly taking everything in. The richness of the man's laugh; the soft warmth of his gentle smile; the way it felt sleeping in his lovers arm's; the scent, the taste, the heat of Nowaki's body.

The memories were few in comparison to the library of moments he had of Akihiko, but they were true classics.

Finally Hiroki raised his head and looked into Akihiko's eyes. He never thought he would ever say these words to his unrequited.

"Then feeling this you must understand perfectly, why I have to say this…"

Hiroki's heart pounded in his chest as he stepped back and with a slight bow allowed the towel to slip off over his head leaving it hanging limp in large hands.

Akihiko's reign in his heart was over.

"I'm sorry Akihiko… I... I choose Nowaki."

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading, please review.<br>**


	21. Chapter 21 Pouring

**The Escort Chapter**

**Twenty-One: Pouring  
><strong>

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><p>Nowaki left Matsuo's in a terrible state.<p>

His jaw ached from the abuse he'd just endured, but this was no comparison to the pain in his heart.

Exiting Matsuo's business suite, Nowaki immediately sought the nearest restroom. Here he stuck his fingers down his throat until he'd expelled the last traces of the pimp from his stomach. Afterwards he rinsed his mouth at the sink, but this wasn't enough to rid him of the taste that had burned itself into his tongue.

Nowaki's large hands gripped the edge of the counter, his mind was still reeling, he was in shock from everything that had just transpired. The escort glanced up and saw his reflection in the mirror. Mere moments after he looked into his own haunted eyes, his legs gave way for the second time that day.

Kneeling on the floor of men's room, Nowaki wept bitterly.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry but I just don't believe you, Hiroki."<p>

"What?" Hiroki was shocked by Akihiko's quiet response.

"I said, I don't believe you." Akihiko stepped up and smoothly captured the back of his friend's neck with the towel again. "How many years have we known each other? You've loved me a long time.

"Haven't you, Hiroki?"

Hiroki's eyes widened. Though he was still partially clothed, he suddenly felt as if he;d been stripped naked.

Akihiko moved closer. "I didn't see it for so long… I didn't want to… But now I do."

One hand gathered both ends of the towel effectively collaring Hiroki as the other reached up and grazed the professor's cheek.

Unwillingly, Hiroki found himself trembling at the touch; he damned Akihiko's miserable timing. Hiroki dropped his eyes; he'd made a commitment in his heart to Nowaki now.

"It's too late."

Akihiko leaned his silvered head in close. "It's never too late." Hiroki could feel hot breath on the cool, damp skin of his neck as a silky voice whispered in his ear.

"Admit it, Hiroki, that's the real reason why you've been avoiding me. Because you know deep down that you love me."

"I.. I.." Hiroki stammered.

"Yes," Akihiko looked expectantly at the man furiously blushing before him.

The words caught in Hiroki's throat. He gazed up into Akihiko's intense eyes.

For fourteen years he _had _loved Akihiko desperately and yet… Once again Hiroki knew that something in him had irrevocably shifted: Nowaki had somehow truly set him free.

"I choose Nowaki."

Hiroki was pleased that there was no waver this time. He put his hand over the one Akihiko had on the towel around his neck, intent on loosening the author's grip. Akihiko's eyes widened at this. Then he frowned and the hand that had just so gently feathered across Hiroki's cheek drifted down and gripped the damaged shoulder.

Akihiko's palm pressed against the purpled bruise on Hiroki's collarbone.

A sharp pain shot through Hiroki and he gasped. Tears came to his eyes and his knees weakened. He staggered backwards, colliding with his desk behind him. Akihiko used the towel around his neck to keep him from falling down entirely

"You and your pride, Hiroki," Akihiko's voice was slightly raised; his eyes flashed with frustration.

"I still don't believe you, nor do I believe you about this either." Akihiko pressed the bruise again and Hiroki saw stars. "Kusama carries the black air of violence with him."

Despite the pain, Hiroki set his hands against Akihiko's chest and shoved back hard. "God damn it, Akihiko, stop! You don't know anything! You never have!"

Akihiko never lost his grip on the towel, however, so the force of the shove only served to pull Hiroki back up and into him. Hiroki found to his chagrin that he was now pressed against the larger man's chest. One of Akihiko's strong arms quickly gripped him around the waist. The hand that had been holding the towel abandoned it to capture his jaw.

"On the contrary, my dear Hiroki..." Staring into pain-stunned eyes, Akihiko whispered sadly, "I know so much more than you can imagine." And with that he leaned in.

"Akihiko, No!…" Hiroki raised his voice in protest, but his words were cut off as a hot mouth crashed against his.

At the same moment door to the office crashed open as well and Nowaki burst into the room.

Akihiko drew back in surprise as a vise-like grip clutched his neck. He released Hiroki as Nowaki spun him around. A second later the author went sprawling, knocking over piles of books and scrolls as he fell.

Within seconds, Akihiko found himself on the floor, his mouth filled with blood from the furious blow Nowaki had dealt to his jaw. He hadn't even recovered his senses when large hands grabbed him by the front of the tee-shirt he was wearing and lifted him back to half-standing from the midst of the literary chaos. He was raised so abruptly his shirt-collar tore in the process.

Nowaki drew back ready to strike again.

Hiroki, stunned by the sudden turn of events, had recovered enough to move again. He lunged for Nowaki's tensed arm and grabbed it, pulling him back.

"No, Nowaki! You idiot, stop!"

At the sound of Hiroki's voice the red mist of rage clouding Nowaki's eyes lifted. His hand released Usami and the author collapsed back to the floor in a gasping heap.

Turning towards his lover; seeing Hiroki standing there shirtless and panting, Nowaki was anguished.

Hiroki was horrified by this violent outburst. "What in the hell have you done, Nowaki?" As soon as he saw Nowaki was no longer in attack mode he released the escort's arm and dropped to his knees beside Akihiko.

"Are you alright, Akihiko?"

The dazed look was slowly fading from Akihiko's eyes. He was still coughing from the earlier hand on his neck. He spat on the polished wood floor of the office and offered Hiroki a bloody grin.

"Tell me again how he doesn't hurt you, Hiroki." Akihiko gazed into Hiroki's anxious eyes adding quietly, "I understand that once someone has been damaged by abuse, that he often will choose to repeat that pattern again and again in relationships, but you deserve better than that."

Hiroki stared Akihiko with a perplexed expression: his friend's strange words made him think that Akihiko's mind was still jangled from the blow.

"What are you talking about?"

"Like I said, Hiroki… I know…" Akihiko stood up, wincing as his long body unfolded. He brought the back of one hand to his mouth and pressed it against his split bottom lip.

Hiroki's eyes widened with wonder at what Akihiko was saying. As all the possible scenarios of knowing ran through his mind, his cheeks grew exceeding hot. He turned his eyes away, unable to meet Akihiko's intense, sorrowful gaze only to notice Nowaki was gone.

"Nowaki…" Hiroki whispered. He rose and quickly retrieved his damp T-shirt, hastily drawing it over his head.

"Hiroki."

Hiroki lifted his sodden sport coat from the back of his office chair. He grabbed his cell phone off his desk and flipped it open, punching Nowaki's contact. He grimaced when it went straight to voicemail.

"Hiroki."

"God damn it!" Hiroki flipped his phone shut. It was only then he realized that Akihiko had been calling his name.

"Hiroki..." Akihiko stepped towards his friend but stopped when he saw Hiroki back up at his approach. "We need to talk."

"I have to find Nowaki."

"You're okay, right?" Hiroki murmured as he stepped past, giving Akihiko wide birth. "You should get something cold on that lip right away before it swells more… And you should probably take yourself to the doctor. I don't know if they'll see you at the campus infirmary… Policies and all…"

"Look I can call you a cab, you shouldn't be driving. I'll cover the expense, the medical fees as well." Hiroki offered this uncomfortably as he began moving towards the door.

"I'm going to press charges."

The professor was stopped in his tracks by these words. Hiroki slowly turned; "Akihiko, don't… please," he whispered.

"It's for your own good, Hiroki. You are obviously too caught up in this terrible dynamic to think clearly."

Something in Akihiko's tone sparked him and Hiroki felt a sudden relief as his anger caught. "The only terrible dynamic I'm caught up in is this one right here, Akihiko!

"None of this would have happened if you had listened to what I'd said in the beginning and hadn't tried to force yourself on me!"

Hiroki's embered stare burned furiously, his voice became harsh with emotion. "I told you, I choose Nowaki, and if you want to remain even just friends with me, Akihiko, you'll leave him alone."

"Come on, Old Man, you can't seriously mean that? Akihiko's pale eyes were incredulous. "We've been friends since we were ten. You're going to throw all that away for a man you haven't even known for a year?"

Akihiko watched his words hit home, he saw the glint of guilt in Hiroki's dark eyes. So he was was shocked then, when the look on his friend's face slipped from conviction to sorrow.

"You said yourself, Akihiko, just because something has been doesn't necessarily mean it should remain that way."

If ever there was a word Akihiko would have applied to Hiroki as a friend it was "faithful." The author was astonished by this response. A bitter smile twisted Akihiko's broken mouth as he played his last card for this round.

"So, you're just going to leave me here, in my hour of need, Hiroki? After all, I'm the one who's wounded here."

At these words the picture of Nowaki standing before him at the breakfast table, that small raw spot on his hip, flashed again in Hiroki's mind. This was followed with the look on Nowaki's face, just before he'd turned away to assist Akihiko.

Hiroki shook his still-damp head. "I'm not so sure about that."

Hiroki resumed his movement towards the door. "Please make sure the door's locked when you leave. I'll call you later and see what the doctor said."

Akihiko watched in stunned silence as his oldest friend hurriedly exited the office, not even bothering to look back once before he closed the door behind him.

Standing there Akihiko realized that the impact of Kusama's punch paled in comparison with the blow Hiroki had just dealt him.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks again for reading. It would be great to hear from you if you're reading along.<strong>


	22. Chapter 22: Shattered and Stripped

**The Escort **

**Chapter Twenty-two: Shattered and Stripped**

* * *

><p>Nowaki had just finished getting dressed for his appointment that evening with Kobayashi. A car from the service would be there to collect him in about twenty minutes.<p>

As he looked in the full length mirror on the back of the door in his small bedroom, the escort ran a hand down the new suit Matsuo had sent him. He was not vain, despite his good looks. People told him he was handsome and he accepted their word for it, though he never would have thought so personally.

In fact he'd actually always felt a bit insecure about the two things that people seemed to comment on the most, his height and his eyes: these made him stand out when what he had always really wanted, more than anything, was simply to fit in. Also, since he didn't know anything about his parents, these unusual characteristics indicated a possibility of mixed blood. If this was true, it would be just one more thing that would place him on the outside of the world that he dwelt in.

Nowaki gave himself a final once over in the mirror. Kobayashi was particular and the escort wanted to make sure he offered no cause for his client to find fault. Bringing his hand up to straighten his tie, he winced when he saw the wrap covering the bruised and split skin of his knuckles from punching Usami.

He had been feeling terribly ashamed of himself ever since he fled the University.

Nowaki dropped his eyes from his reflection. This was the second time today he'd been unable to bear the image that confronted him. Without thinking he made a fist and slammed his injured hand against the mirror. His visage was suddenly fractured: a web of cracks appeared in the thin, cheap glass, radiating out from the point of impact.

A frown furrowed the escort's usually mild face. Despite the fact he knew it might crease his slacks, Nowaki sat down on his single futon and ran his good hand through his shaggy, dark hair. Fearful of soiling his new suit, he held his injured hand well away from himself as he watched the gauze over his knuckles turn crimson where he'd split the skin again.

Moving his undamaged hand down, Nowaki reached into his pocket, took out his cell phone, and turned it on. While he was relieved there were no messages from Matsuo, there was an uneasy heaviness in his stomach anyway. He saw a number of calls from Hiro-san; the last made an hour before. .

It wasn't often that Hiro-san called and even more rarely that he left a message. Listening to his voicemail Nowaki wasn't surprised to only hear brief moments of silence before Hiroki hung up. It was a habit he'd quickly learned Hiro-san had… to wait until the beep and then disconnect shortly thereafter, too overwhelmed by the thought of what to say to commit any of his words to a recording.

While he knew he should call back, at the moment Nowaki didn't think he could bear it. He'd known he shouldn't have gone in the University in the first place. After all, Hiro-san had told him that morning that he had a meeting. But still, after his incident with Matsuo, he had felt the need to see his lover so badly it had been almost unbearable.

Nowaki realized sadly how much he'd come to see Hiro-san as a bastion of stability in his currently chaotic existence and how unfair this was, given the incredible differences in their lives.

_What do I really have to offer in return_? _Love, or my limited approximation of it?_

_You certainly didn't pick the best way to demonstrate your love today, Kusama. _

Nowaki rubbed his forehead as he considered not only this, but his other failures as well. He knew he really couldn't blame Hiro-san if the man decided to leave him and return to his first love.

_ After all, I'm an orphan whore with no more than a middle school education and Hiro-san is a man from a privileged background, a rising star in the academic firmament._

_Hiro-san really would be better off with Usami_.

Nowaki's chest suddenly and severely constricted at this thought.

This anguish rivaled his earlier experience: Nowaki couldn't believe how much it had hurt coming in and seeing Usami kissing his Hiro-san, especially when kissing was the one act between he and the professor that had remained inviolate.

He had come to Hiroki's office door and, not wanting to disturb, had stopped to listened in. Hearing Hiro-san's pained voice however; he hadn't been able to hold back. While he didn't know what had led up to that instant, when he opened the door, finding Hiro-san shirtless, Usami embracing him, Nowaki wasn't sure what he would have done if he hadn't heard his lover's protests before he'd entered.

The escort was mortified by the new and powerful feelings seeing Usami with Hiro-san had provoked in him. Still, he couldn't believe he'd actually struck Usami, even if the bastard more than deserved it. He had always been a man who abhorred violence. Obviously Hiro-san felt that way too, based on how he'd responded to his attack.

Nowaki could remember lashing out like that only one other time in his entire life. He'd been a child then, and another boy had teased him about being an orphan. Up until that moment, though he had suspected something was different about his life, Nowaki really hadn't known the truth of his situation: the Kusamas had always been so much like real parents to him

Recalling that moment, Nowaki remembered the anguish he'd felt at the boy's words. His sorrow and terrible sense of loss at the truth had somehow translated themselves into rage.

Thinking back on what had happened in that moment as a boy; the events of today had not been all that different, really. Nowaki remembered he had run away after striking out then as well. Only now, he was well aware he was not a boy anymore and in his mind, fleeing as a man was as inexcusable as his violence.

Nowaki sighed as he pushed himself up off the bed. He wandered into the bathroom to replace the gauze over his throbbing knuckles. After he'd done this, he pulled his phone back out again.

_I have to get my head together. _

He was supposed to be accompanying Kobayashi to some important business dinner and he would need to be entirely present to navigate the evening successfully.

Looking at Hiroki's number, Nowaki suddenly felt like the shattered mirror in his bedroom.

_I have to call him. _

Even if this meant learning that Hiro-san never wanted to see him again.

_At least that way I won't spend the whole evening wondering. _Bruised fingers trembled over the button; finally Nowaki pressed "call."

Hiroki's phone had rung once on the other end of the line when Nowaki's call-waiting beeped. The escort saw that his ride had arrived early. Nowaki frowned at this but he clicked out of his call to answer: after this afternoon, he didn't want any negative reports getting back to Matsuo.

He heard the driver's crisp voice on the line, his own, however, was completely flat.

"I'll be right down."

Regretfully Nowaki turned off his phone; he turned out his apartment lights, slipped into his shoes, and headed to the door, out into a different kind of darkness.

* * *

><p>Several hours later found him following Kobayashi and his two colleagues. The dinner had been elegant, if interminable. The two men he and his client had dined with were foreign investors interested in Kobayashi's company.<p>

Nowaki had been quieter than usual that evening, not that Kobayashi and his cohorts even seemed to notice. The men's conversations had vacillated between a variety of different languages, so, outside of the Japanese and the English spoken, Nowaki hadn't been able to follow the conversation half the time anyway. Still, he had conducted himself politely and engaged when asked, although it quickly became apparent to him he was there primarily for decoration.

Throughout the dinner, Nowaki had endured the leers of Kobayashi's two guests, who, by their actions, obviously understood the nature of his relationship to their colleague.

After seemingly endless rounds of corporate talk and equally endless rounds of sake, things had at last drawn to a close and Nowaki and his client were accompanying his guests to their luxury suite at one of Tokyo's premiere hotels.

Looking at the clock on the wall of the hotel lobby as they entered, Nowaki figured he had another hour watching the men drink before Kobayashi took him to one of the cheap "love hotels" the man preferred for carrying out his dalliances. The escort was looking forward to getting his client's fuck over with, so that he could get home and have a few hours to figure out how to approach Hiro-san in the morning.

Nowaki followed the men into the dazzling sitting room of the visitors' suite and didn't bat an eye when the trio gave him their drink orders. He mixed the drinks carefully and delivered them to the men now sitting on the plush furniture, obviously in high spirits from their earlier alcohol.

He was stunned into immobility, however, when Kobayashi suddenly ordered, "Strip!"

"Excuse me?" Nowaki's usually consistent color darkened with embarrassment at being given such a command in front of Kobayashi's new business partners.

Kobayashi's already wine-flushed cheeks darkened as well: Nowaki's question caused him to lose face in front of his recently acquired allies.

"We're using you to seal the deal, Kurosa," Kobayashi's voice was cold.

"What?" Nowaki was stunned by this information. He knew he was appearing insolent, but he had never done more than "one on one" affairs. "There must be some mistake, Kobayashi-sama."

The two visitors were watching this exchange closely, their already lustful expressions growing sharper, finding Nowaki's obvious reluctance exciting.

"Come here, Kurosa!"

Nowaki stepped up to Kobayashi without hesitation, though he feared, given the look on his client's face, the man might strike him. Kobayashi leaned forward and hissed in his ear."Didn't Matsuo-san tell you what I paid for this evening?"

Nowaki's heart sank as he recalled his manager's words from earlier that afternoon_: "three times your usual fee."_ Slowly he nodded.

"Why the hell else would I offer to pay that?" Kobayashi no longer restrained his voice. "You're good, Boy, but you're hardly worth that much extra! Honestly you're overpriced as it is!"

Nowaki's eyes dropped at this cruel appraisal. He kicked himself for not being sharp enough to realize Matsuo wasn't through diminishing him yet. His cheeks blushed hotly and his stomach clenched at what Matsuo might do next if he disappointed such an important client.

The escort bit his bottom lip and slowly nodded. He offered Kobayashi a low bow.

"Of course you're right, Kobayashi-sama. It is an honor for one like myself to be able to serve you and your colleagues. Please, excuse my stupidity. I apologize for my foolish misunderstanding."

The escort straightened and slipped his suit jacket off his broad shoulders. He tried to ignore Kobayashi's self-satisfied smirk and the wicked hunger in the other businessmen's eyes.

"Excuse me, Jackson-san," he asked one of the other men. "Is there a hanger I might please use for my suit, I don't wish it to get to too wrinkled."

"There's a closet in the entry, Kurosa," Jackson offered with a leer and a wink as he pulled an expensive cigar from his pocket and prepared to light it.

"You can hang your trousers up there too, if you like," he offered expansively, "but then leave the rest on, as I think we'd all like to enjoy watching you take it off."

Nowaki said nothing to this, he merely nodded again and made his way to the suite's entry. He could hear the men laughing behind him as they exchanged lewd comments.

All the while he was hanging up his jacket, he found himself recalling the incident that morning: the omen of the cupboard. As he slipped silently out of his trousers and hung them up Nowaki shook his head.

_Was it really only been this morning that happened? It feels like years ago. _

The escort realized this had quite possibly been the longest, hardest day so far in his turbulent life.

Swallowing hard, Nowaki tried to clear the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. He squared his shoulders and turned to go back into the main room where Kobayashi and his partners were waiting. He shivered as the three men erupted in a fit of inebriated cackles.

Nowaki winced as it immediately struck him that his longest day wasn't anywhere near over.

* * *

><p>Hiroki was sitting on the floor at the low table in his quiet apartment, looking at his phone and cursing.<p>

When he'd initially seen Nowaki's number pop up on his screen he'd told himself not to answer it on the first few rings, despite the fact he'd been sick with dread ever since Nowaki had caught him with Akihiko that afternoon.

Then the phone had only rung once and when he had tried to call back, it was immediately obvious Nowaki had turned his phone off

_Again._

_What the hell, Nowaki? _

Glancing at the time as he set his cell down, Hiroki realized that Nowaki was probably on his way to work. He sighed and shook his head knowing that the man wouldn't be accessible now until morning.

Not that Nowaki would be accessible even then if he continued to keep his phone off.

_Dumb-ass._

Cursing the younger man failed to bring its usual comfort; Hiroki was truly worried.

He had fled his office in search of his lover, scouring the University's halls. Later, he'd even gone to the gym where he knew Nowaki worked out in hopes he might find him there. It was then Hiroki realized to his chagrin, that despite the fact he and Nowaki had been together for almost a month, he'd never been to Nowaki's apartment and had no idea really where the younger man lived.

He'd called Nowaki's phone a number of times too, but when it came time to leave a message, Hiroki found he had no idea what to say. He knew how it must have looked: him shirtless and Akihiko all but on top of him.

_And that kiss._

Knowing their covenant about kissing, he could only imagine how it must have felt for Nowaki to have witnessed that. Hiroki felt bitter tears of remorse well in his eyes.

Long fingers flipped aimlessly through the pages of the open book on the table before him. Hiroki damned his miserable luck and his timing.

_I didn't even want Akihiko to kiss me… For once._

After all his years of unrequited love, trying everything he could think of to quell the burning desire he'd had, now thanks, to Nowaki, he truly felt no desire for Akihiko.

_And now, on the eve of this epiphany I might lose him…_

Realizing this, Hiroki determined that despite whatever fragile pride he still owned, he was not going to let this happen. He knew he needed to apologize, to explain the situation, and, if he was honest, he should also thank Nowaki for setting him free from the trap he'd so long been caught in.

His hand went unconsciously to his bruised collarbone and he winced, thinking about how Akihiko had gripped him there.

It wasn't as though he was a weakling and with his history of athleticism, he was probably far more fit than Akihiko, if slightly smaller.

_I should have been able to put up a better fight._

But the pain had triggered bad memories affecting his ability to respond as he should have.

Considering this, Hiroki suddenly saw the black twist in Akihiko's comment about abuse. He found himself wondering if Nowaki hadn't come in when he had, how far his friend might have pushed him. Hiroki knew Akihiko had an adamant nature and didn't like to be denied once he set his sights on something.

It was a trait that both the Usami boys shared.

Suddenly the phone rang. Hiroki quickly picked it up, his heart beating with a mad hope. Then it skipped for a different reason, seeing Akihiko's number on the screen.

Though he really didn't wish to talk to him, Hiroki felt compelled to answer. He had promised to call to see what the doctor said and he hadn't.

_I really should find out at least how Akihiko is doing. _He also wanted to make sure that Akihiko held to his word about not pressing charges.

_That's the last thing Nowaki needs._

Besides, now that the initial shock of seeing his lover's violence had passed, as far as Hiroki was concerned, Akihiko had more than deserved it. Using this thought to bolster himself, he answered the phone.

"Kamijou, here."

"Ah, Hiroki!" Akihiko's voice was thick with relief. "I was worried that you might not answer."

Hiroki passed over this and went right to his primary interest. "How are you, Akihiko? Did you go to the Doctor's?" He felt himself blush asking this question.

"Ummmm," Akihiko hummed in assent. "I'm fine, if perhaps a bit concussed and maybe a loose tooth or two. Plus I have a lip the size of a golf ball. That's quite a punch your giant has there." Akihiko laughed uncomfortably.

Hiroki was disconcerted by his friend's nonchalance. Given Akihiko's family and his status, he couldn't believe he would take being struck so lightly, even if he was at fault.

"Look, Akihiko, as I said before, just send me the bills and I'll take care of it."

"No need, Hiroki," Akihiko assured. Then he added, "After all, I rather deserved it. I mean I would have done the same thing if I were in Kusama-san's shoes."

"Really?" Hiroki was shocked. This was the last thing he'd ever expected Akihiko to say.

"Completely out of line… I mean, I knew you were with someone. I got swept up, artist's temperament and all. I shouldn't have pressed, Hiroki, I'm sorry."

Hiroki was stunned by both Akihiko's acknowledgment and his apology.

"How are _you_?" Akihiko's silken tones inquired. "That's really why I called."

"I'm fine," Hiroki lied. His friend's concern touched him, but after what had happened, despite the apology he felt wary.

"And Kusama-san?"

"I… I don't know," Hiroki admitted reluctantly.

On the other end of the phone Akihiko sighed.

"Look, Old Man, I'm really sorry for all the complications I've caused. I guess it's just my luck to always be longing for what I can't have… First Takahiro, now you.

"If there's anything I can do to help make things right with you and Kusama-san, please let me know. I'll do whatever I can."

Hiroki was struck by the mad irony of Akihiko's words and the whole situation.

If someone had told him a month ago that Akihiko would be pining for him, apologizing for a situation like this, he would have laughed in that person's face and recommended a good madhouse. As it was, however, he felt virtually nothing at his friend's words.

Nothing except regret, that was, and this far more for Nowaki than Akihiko.

"Thanks, Akihiko," Hiroki responded simply, not trusting himself to further words at the moment.

"You'll keep me posted, won't you?"

"Ummm," Hiroki nodded despite the fact his friend couldn't see it. Then before they hung up, he was compelled to ask, "Uh, Akihiko. In my office today… you said you _knew_. What did you mean?"

It was obvious given what Akihiko had been saying over the course of this call that he still knew nothing of Nowaki's profession. Otherwise Hiroki couldn't imagine him speaking as he was. And while Hiroki was relieved that it seemed Nowaki was still safe, he had to admit, he was curious.

He heard Akihiko release a long exhale on the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry, Hiroki. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Yeah, well you did." Hiroki's confidence was bolstered somewhat by the other man's reluctance. This tender assurance was suddenly shattered, however, and the bottom dropped out of his stomach, when he heard Akihiko's next words.

"Hiroki, I know… I know about what happened with Haruhiko."

Hiroki sat in stunned silence. Tears were soon leaving their thin trails down cheeks that had suddenly paled. Hiroki felt himself begin to shake.

"Hiroki…" Akihiko's worried voice called.

"Just… just what is it you think you know, Akihiko?" Hiroki's usual growl was barely a whisper

"Ah… Hiroki… I'm so sorry, I can't imagine a worse time for this to come up…" Akihiko's low voice was weighted with sorrow.

"What is it you think you know, Akihiko?" Hiroki asked again, only this time his tone was far harsher. The words rasped from his throat in a breaking bark.

The silk of Akihiko's voice when he answered threatened to strangle him.

"As I said in your office, Old Man, I know... so much…"

Hearing his friend's now ragged breathing on the other end of the line, Akihiko quickly shifted. "Look, I don't want to talk about this over the phone. Why don't I come over?"

"No!" Hiroki gasped, he covered his mouth to stifle the sob that followed. His mind was reeling. He didn't want to believe the implication of what Akihiko had just said was even possible.

"Well, I'm not leaving you in a state like this!" Akihiko shouted. "We need to discuss this; there's so much I have to explain!"

"No!" This time Hiroki's voice was low and firm. It took every ounce of his strength to keep his voice from cracking, but there was no way he was going to add to his already tremendous shame by getting hysterical.

"Hiroki!" Akihiko's own tone was adamant.

"Look, Akihiko…" Hiroki started roughly. He cleared his throat and forced himself to pretend he was giving a lecture. "I really can't deal with this at the moment. Not until I have things sorted out with Nowaki."

"Hiroki..." Akihiko's tone was much softer.

"Besides, whatever it is you think you know… that was years ago." Hiroki was pleased that he sounded so calm considering his hand was trembling so badly he could hardly hold the phone.

"Promise me we'll talk about this, Hiroki and that you won't do anything rash until we do," Akihiko pleaded. "Otherwise, I am coming over this instant."

"I promise." He was a man of his word after all, and if it meant Akihiko would leave him alone until he could get his bearings it was a promise Hiroki was more than happy to make.

"I feel so terrible, Hiroki, about everything," Akihiko whispered.

Hiroki's mouth was twisted in a bitter grin as he found his well-honed urge to take care of his friend automatically take over.

"I'm fine Akihiko… like I said it was a long time ago. And things with Nowaki will work out… So, don't worry about me."

Akihiko marveled at how quickly Hiroki's tone had changed. He'd expected a much more extreme reaction. He gave an uncomfortable chuckle, "You're amazing Hiroki… You know that?"

Hiroki couldn't help but snort at this response. He wondered at how different these words felt uttered by Akihiko in comparison to when Nowaki told him this.

Mistaking the sound for one of the professor's usual noises of humorous self-deprecation, Akihiko breathed a sigh of relief. This was the Hiroki he knew. "No, seriously, Hiroki, you're remarkable… Promise me again we can talk about this."

"I'll give you a call in a day or so, Akihiko, and we'll set a time to meet. Okay?" Hiroki was stunned with how easily he was able to slip out of his own anguish into soothing his friend.

"Okay… I'm sorry, Hiroki, really," Akihiko offered once more, "For everything."

Hiroki mind was churning with what it was that his friend really knew. He still had a hard time believing that Akihiko knew everything. If that was the case, however, he didn't know if he would ever be able to face him again.

"Look like I said, we'll talk later."

"Promise me Hiroki," Akihiko asked one last time.

Hiroki couldn't understand this repeated insistence, he felt his anger rising and was grateful for the relief it provided from his terrible shame.

"I promise!" he snapped, "Damn it, Akihiko, I'm good for my word. You know that!"

"Thank you, Hiroki."

Hearing the humble gratitude in Akihiko's voice only made him that much more uneasy.

"Later then, okay?" Hiroki heard the sureness he'd managed, begin to unravel at the edges of his words.

On the other end of the line Akihiko gently murmured, "Take care, my friend," and hung up.

Akihiko smiled sadly to himself as he closed his phone. Because, despite what he had said, he was not about to relinquish Hiroki so easily. In fact, after being struck, he was even more determined to take Hiroki away from Kusama.

He hadn't wanted it to come to this, but while he regretted disclosing what he had in the heat of the moment, he knew there was a chance if he played his hand right, he could use what he knew to bind Hiroki to him permanently.

Hiroki meanwhile, snapped his phone shut and, despite his desire to hurl it across the room, he instead set it carefully down on the edge of the table, not wanting to risk damaging it, on the off chance Nowaki might try and call again.

The moment he released it however, his whole body began violently trembling. Hiroki drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them trying to still the quake. Bowing his head, he began sobbing in earnest. One lean arm moved up to shelter his wild head.

He knew without a doubt he could no longer hide from his past and that he had to find Nowaki as soon as he could. He needed to apologize, and realized the time had come to tell Nowaki everything. As, despite all his history with Akihiko, Hiroki would much rather have the tree of his heart stripped to the bark and uprooted by the powerful winds of his typhoon than have the quickening frost of autumn lay him bare first.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you my dear readers for your amazing response to the last chapter. It does this humble writer's heart good.<strong>


	23. Chapter 23: Nothing and All

**The Escort**

**Chapter Twenty-three: Nothing and All**

* * *

><p>Nowaki was awakened from his troubled sleep by the sounds of knocking at his door. He reached for his phone, and flipped it open to read the time. Nowaki groaned; he pulled his pillow over his head to muffle the sound.<p>

He'd been asleep for barely three hours.

_It's probably Shimizu-san. _

Shimizu wasan older man who sometimes wandered over in the morning to have coffee, after his son and his daughter-in-law had left for work. He'd been coming over to Nowaki's apartment a few times a week, ever since he'd learned the young man was home during the day. It was troublesome at times, disrupting Nowaki's sleep, but the youth knew Shimizu-san was lonely and he'd always been taught to be kind to his elders.

Today, however, no amount of manners was going to entice him to get up. The previous night had been terrible and he was so sore he could barely move. After Kobayashi and his cohorts had watched him strip, he'd been forced to pleasure himself in front of the men. Once this was done the trio had spent the next several hours fucking him raw.

Throughout the night Nowaki had found himself with one of the men in his mouth, while another occupied his ass, and the third watched, masturbating. Only one of the trio had bothered to wear a condom initially and the man eventually discarded the practice at the other two businessmen's taunting.

By the time the men were finished with him, Nowaki's black hair and his back were dripping with cum. The milky fluid drooled from his tired jaw and aching ass. But the worst moment of the evening, even after all of this, was when they were done and Nowaki discovered he didn't have the strength left to immediately stand.

_"If you're just going to kneel there all night, you might as well make yourself useful,"_ the cigar smoker, Jackson, had laughed harshly. And Nowaki had felt the cold glass of a heavy ashtray set on the small of his back. His shoulders had already been singed by Jackson's falling ash repeatedly as the man hadn't bothered to stop smoking the whole time he'd fucked him.

That he'd been reduced by Matsuo and these men to nothing more than furniture, an object of derision, had pushed the escort over the edge. Added to this humiliation, they hadn't even allowed him to clean up properly afterwards once he'd finally risen. He'd managed to wash his face and rinse his hair, wipe himself down, but they'd denied him the basest civility of a shower before he had to leave. He was forced to meet the service's car still reeking of their noxious seed.

Nowaki, cringed beneath his pillow at the memory. He'd spent more than two hours scrubbing when he'd come home and still he felt filthy. He could sense the weight of the roll of bills sitting on his nightstand even now: the money the men had given him as tip, thrust into his hand without a word as Kobayashi had ushered him out the door.

A rare tear slide down Nowaki's cheek.

_What had happened with Hiro-san yesterday was for the best, really. _

There was no way that he should have ever entertained he could be in a relationship with anyone. Besides, Kamijou Hiroki was an honorable man, and Nowaki knew now there was no way they could have continued on without his sordid life eventually contaminating his beloved professor.

Nowaki growled as the rapping on his door continued.

_Who in their right mind would keep knocking when I haven't answered already?_

Realizing that if the person kept this up, the neighbors would soon be bothered, Nowaki rose stiffly up off his futon, scrubbing his tear-trailed cheek with the back of one large hand.

"Yes, I'm coming…"

After grabbing his tee-shirt from where it was draped over the single, straight-backed chair that sat in his bedroom, he limped out into the main room of the apartment and peered out the peephole. Nowaki's stomach dropped and his heart clenched.

A pair of stern, dark eyes stared back at him.

Hiroki growled on the other side of the door. "I hear you in there, Nowaki! You better open the door or I will stand out here and knock until someone calls the management to haul me away!"

The door cracked open and a pair of solemn blue eyes stared back. "Hiro-san, what are you doing here?" Nowaki asked softly.

"Are you such a brat that you have no manners? Are you going to make me stand out here in the hall to talk to you?" Hiroki snapped with far more bravado than he felt. His heart was pounding so hard he wondered that Nowaki couldn't hear it.

Nowaki's eyes widened slightly at these words. Had it been any other day he might have smiled, but his spirit was so battered he just couldn't manage it. So instead, he offered a slight bow of apology and stepped back to allow Hiroki in.

Hiroki kicked out of his shoes and followed Nowaki into the main room.

Once Hiroki had made it into the apartment and the door had closed behind him, he allowed a small sigh of relief.

That was, until he really had a chance to look at Nowaki. The young man was standing before him, his head bowed, not meeting his eyes. Nowaki was still shirtless, tee-shirt in hand, the pale-grey, cotton pajama bottoms he was wearing slung low on his narrow hips.

Hiroki noticed a number of love marks on the escort's broad chest, but even more than this, he noted that the raw patch on Nowaki's hip was three times the size it had been the previous day. His brow furrowed deeply at this. But rather than comment he reached around and into the book bag he carried. He pulled out a short stack of textbooks and held them out with both hands.

"Your test is on Tuesday and you left your books at my house. I wasn't sure if I'd see you again before then. You shouldn't be so cocky as to think you no longer need to study."

Nowaki looked up in surprise. He'd expected any number of responses from Hiro-san after his outburst of disgraceful violence, but this was not one of them. He reached out hesitantly to take the books. Hiroki's brow twitched only slightly when he saw Nowaki's newly wrapped knuckles.

As the texts were exchanged, their fingers brushed and both started slightly at the contact.

"How did you even know where to find me, Hiro-san?" Nowaki sounded more than a little embarrassed. He tried not to wince as he bent down to set the books on the small low table next to him.

Hiroki unslung the book bag from his shoulder and lowered it to the floor beside him. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"I was cleaning up and when I was moving your books, a utility bill for this apartment's address fell out." He quickly added, "I put it back in the book. I think I returned it to the spot you had it."

Nowaki nodded. He remembered using the bill for keeping his place. He'd fallen into his studying while at home and had realized he was going to be late getting to Hiroki's so he'd grabbed it, rather than a proper bookmark. As Nowaki stood there considering this, he pulled on his shirt. He was experiencing the need for the protection the thin cotton offered against the nakedness he suddenly felt before Hiro-san now.

While Nowaki set his books to the side and pulled on his shirt, Hiroki glanced around the escort's apartment. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but this wasn't it.

Though the apartment was a one bedroom unit, it was so small as to be claustrophobic. Hiroki had a hard time imagining someone as long as Nowaki dwelling in it comfortably. It was impeccably clean though, which wasn't that surprising, Hiroki had noted on numerous occasions when Nowaki was staying with him that the youth seemed to be obsessive about cleanliness.

What did surprise him however, was how stark the abode was: there were no posters or pictures; outside the low table, no furniture in the front room; there wasn't even a T.V., just neatly stacked piles of books.

"I didn't think you'd have so many books," Hiroki offered lamely when he looked over and saw Nowaki had finished dressing and had noticed him looking around. Hiroki leaned down and picked up a text off the table. "Oh, I just bought a copy of this the other day."

This comment earned a weak smile from Nowaki.

"Hiro-san, most of these books are ones you loaned me... Including that one." He nodded to the book in Hiroki's hand.

Hiroki looked down at the book, his hand. "Is it?"

"Unless you need more than one, you should take the other one back and get a refund."

Hiroki didn't draw his eyes up from the book right away. His heart was breaking inside at the sound of Nowaki's sweet voice. In the weeks he'd known the man, he'd never heard it so weighted and lifeless. Hiroki raised his eyes hesitantly after a moment of flipping through pages. His gaze caught Nowaki's sad stare.

"I can't get rid of the other. Look." He opened the book to show careful graphite notes in kanji extending down the side of the page and lightly circled passages.

"The other one has different notes… different thoughts. That makes these texts more like brothers than mere reproductions. Each has something new to offer." Hiroki glanced away from tired blue eyes and back down at the text.

Nowaki felt his chest swell with love at the professor's intellectual eccentricities, but his heart was too cracked to contain it at the moment.

"Thank you for bringing my books, Hiro-san, I am truly grateful. But if you'll please excuse me... I am exceedingly weary this morning."

After he finished speaking Nowaki moved off in the direction of the bedroom door. At its threshold he turned back. "Please forgive my rudeness, Hiro-san, but I am feeling unwell. I hope you'll understand if I ask you to see yourself out… Though you're welcome to stay and read for a bit if you'd like.

"They are your books after all."

Hiroki looked back up. He'd watched how Nowaki was moving. He felt his cheeks flush, recognizing the pained way the younger man was carrying himself immediately. He knew in that moment that whatever had happened on Nowaki's job last night had not been good and that he was suffering.

With this realization an even greater guilt hit him. He understood too well what Nowaki was dealing with, not to mention how angry the younger man must still be with him for what had happened the previous day with Akihiko. However, though he knew he was being selfish, Hiroki couldn't let Nowaki leave things as they were.

"Nowaki, I didn't just come to return your books." Hiroki watched Nowaki stiffen as he said this and was gripped with the sudden fear that in his stalling with the books he'd somehow already botched everything.

This thought was unbearable.

No amount of pride, he'd realized last night, was worth losing Nowaki. When he'd found that bill in a fit of nervous cleaning, it had seemed like a sign to him: he had to make this right.

"I wanted to talk to you too... about yesterday…"

Nowaki braced himself for the explosion, the harsh words of recrimination for his deplorable actions, and found he just couldn't bear it at this moment: he was broken. He had nothing in reserve to bolster himself with, though he knew he deserved every word of it.

"Hiro-san, please… I beg you … not now," Nowaki whispered, dropping his eyes to the floor.

Hearing this, Hiroki felt his heart stop.

_Is it already too late? Has Nowaki made an unchangeable decision?_

In a moment of panic, Hiroki did the only thing he could think of. Despite the close quarters of the room, he gracefully dropped and assumed a dogeza. He could feel his whole body flushing with shame, the last time he'd assumed this position had been with his father, just before the man had banished him.

"Nowaki, I know that we had a covenant regarding our kiss and I broke this. I offer you my humble apology for this betrayal.

"Please… while I did not ask for and did not want Akihiko to kiss me… I take full responsibility." Hiroki fought hard to keep his voice even and not stammer with the emotion that was rocking him to his very core.

Nowaki's looked down on the kneeling man before him with an expression of horror. After the acts he'd endured just hours ago, that a person as venerable as Hiro-san would bow in such a way before someone as lowly as him, was completely unthinkable.

Nowaki fell immediately to his knees; he put his hands on Hiroki's shoulders and tried to get his lover to straighten.

"No! Hiro-san, no! You can't do this… Get up!" Nowaki's voice was desperate in his pleas.

"Not until you forgive me!" Hiroki barked though his body remained rigidly bowed.

"Forgive you? There's nothing to forgive… I am nothing! I am not worthy of a covenant! Please, Kamijou-san, I can't bear to see you put yourself below me! You are too good a man to do this for the likes of me… I am worthless!" Nowaki's voice cracked at these last words.

At the sound of this Hiroki raised his head, he was shocked to see the tears flowing down Nowaki's face.

The moment Hiroki raised himself up just a bit, Nowaki released him. The escort slid back and folded his long body in a parallel dogeza posture, trying to lower himself somehow even more than Hiroki had so that he was soon all but completely prostrate.

"No, Kamijou-san, I'm the one who must beg your forgiveness." Nowaki gasped out. "You told me not to come to the University and I did anyway. I laid hands on your oldest friend and a member of the elite, an accomplished artist, and then I ran away shamefully. I didn't even have the decency to turn myself in as I should have.

"I am supposed to be your lover and I disgraced you with my rash actions, I who am lower even than a dog, with what I do with my body."

At these words, all the pain of the last twenty-four hours- his foster mother's rejection, what transpired in Matsuo's office, the fight with Usami, the assault at the hotel- the totality of these events came crashing down and Nowaki shattered. Though he didn't cry out, his shoulders shook with the violence of his sobbing.

His tremoring softened and Nowaki forced himself to still however, when, moments later, he felt a hesitant hand on his head. Despite its awkwardness, the clumsy, manly strokes were tender.

"Nowaki…"

Nowaki choked at the gentle invitation in Hiroki's tones. "Kamijou-san, I have nothing to offer you but disgrace."

Another kind hand cupped Nowaki's aching jaw and he permitted his head to be raised. He was shocked to see the tears silently streaming down furiously blushing cheeks. Hiroki shifted his hands to broad shoulders and Nowaki reluctantly allowed himself to be raised up.

In moments they were kneeling, facing each other.

Hiroki looked intently into Nowaki's eyes, before dropping his own down. The color on his cheeks flared brighter. "That's not true, you have given me an invaluable treasure."

Nowaki's eyes widened in confusion.

_What could I have given Hiro-san that could even remotely begin to be counted as treasure?_ He felt warm hands on his cheeks, cradling his jaw.

"No matter what your body does, Nowaki, your heart is pure; nothing in the world is worth more to me than that."

Nowaki dropped his eyes and shook his head, but Hiroki's hands continued to lightly hold him. "My heart?... Kamijou-san, it's nothing."

Hiroki's low voice growled deeper than usual at emotion held in his words. "You say it is nothing, Nowaki, but in truth it is everything. You have given me the one thing I have longed for my whole life, the one thing I had been asking Akihiko for but was always denied.

Even yesterday, amidst all his declarations he never offered me this… Nowaki, you gave _your_ _Hiro-san_ your heart, freely, completely... You did not even require me to ask for it."

Nowaki was stunned. He raised hopeful eyes to meet his beloved's glistening gaze.

"H-Hiro-san.."

Allowing his head to follow the gentle pull of Hiroki's hands forward, Nowaki lost his breath when he found his lips caught in a tender embrace. His own hands traveled automatically to Hiroki, gathering his face in a similar manner.

Still kneeling, each man unconsciously slid in towards the other. They sought each other's mouth's first gently, then frantically as their hunger for the other's oral ablution built.

Their desperate kisses and breathless gasps soon filled the quiet apartment with the sounds of their shared forgiveness.

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><p><strong>My insomnia is your boon. Happy reading and thank you for your feedback. I really value your thoughts.<strong>


	24. Chapter 24: Revelations

**The Escort**

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Revelations**

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><p>After a time of fervent kissing, both men stilled. Hiroki and Nowaki were lightly panting as they recovered from their desperate stayed kneeling, each still holding the other's tear–stained face, their foreheads pressed together. They remained silently in this position for several minutes.<p>

Finally, Hiroki drew his head back. He lifted his lips and pressed a soft kiss on Nowaki's forehead. Then he stood up. Nowaki remained as he was, Hiroki's declarations had been a healing balm but his wounds ran deep and he was still raw. Finally he raised his eyes.

"Hiro-san?"'

"Yes?"

"About Usami-san. I need to apologize and I think I should turn myself in," Nowaki's voice was mournful.

"No!"

Nowaki stared at Hiroki curiously, stunned by this adamant response.

"Look, I talked to Akihiko. He's fine, there will be no charges."

Hiroki snorted. "The ass got what he deserved and he admitted it. He was out of line and if you hadn't shown up when you did, I would have done the same thing myself!"

Nowaki was honestly shocked: Usami Akihiko had not struck him as the kind of man who ever confessed to fault. Nor could he envision him responding to being punched by a mere "student," a commoner, so lightly; even if it was by the boyfriend of his oldest friend.

Still, studying Hiroki now, Hiro-san seemed in earnest. Nowaki looked down and breathed a sigh of relief, feeling slightly guilty still as he did.

"Come on," Hiroki growled.

Nowaki raised his eyes questioningly.

Hiroki said nothing; he just nodded toward the door of Nowaki's bedroom.

Nowaki dropped his head and sense of dread gripped his stomach. He felt the rare blush creep into his cheeks. "Hiro-san, I'm sorry… but… I don't think this morning I can…"

"Hey!"

Nowaki looked up at the sharp sound.

Hiroki frowned and shook his head. He moved over to the bedroom door, opened it, and stepped inside.

Nowaki exhaled another breath of relief at Hiro-san's understanding. He heard Hiroki walk over to the window and raise one of the blinds to let in a bit of the early morning light.

Nowaki knew that it went against his lover's nature to go into his bedroom uninvited, but he was aware that given the size of his apartment, outside the bath and the slivered balcony there was no place else for Hiroki to retreat to.

As the escort struggled to raise his battered body, Nowaki understood implicitly that this is why Hiroki had stepped into the other room. It would have killed him if Hiro-san had been compelled to help him stand up: Hiroki was gracing him with the privacy of rising on his own, saving his loss of face from having a witness to his difficulties.

Standing in Nowaki's room as he waited, once again Hiroki was awed by its starkness. There was the single futon, a chair, a short bedside table, but that was all. In the shadowed light of the room Hiroki noticed the door to the closet was open. Tucked inside was a small, portable, drawered unit. Other than this, it seemed as though every garment Nowaki owned was hung up above it and there weren't that many of these.

Hiroki was stunned that such a rich personality should be living in such sterility. He sighed. It was clear to him now, more than ever, how much Nowaki needed a real home. He looked over as Nowaki finally appeared in the door.

Despite how pale and worn Nowaki was, his blue eyes were far brighter than they had been previously. Hiroki was well aware, however, that his mighty typhoon was still in a dangerous state. The sentiments Nowaki had expressed in the other room, the sense of despair and worthlessness, Hiroki was only too familiar with. It tore at his heart to hear the gentle giant say such things about himself.

Hiroki stepped a bit closer to Nowaki. "Come on, lie down," he urged in a mild growl.

He watched as Nowaki quietly obeyed. Hiroki tried to hide his wince, seeing the slow, careful way the younger man settled himself.

"Scoot over a bit," Hiroki ordered as he sat down beside Nowaki. He jumped when the linens beneath him squeaked. He rose up and dug under the sheet and pulled out a small, stuffed, black dog that regarded him with one glassy blue eye.

Hiroki tilted his head as he studied the battered pup. He held it carefully as he stretched out behind Nowaki, spooning him on the narrow futon. Hiroki propped his head up on one hand, elbow bent. The other hand reached over and carefully deposited the dog in front of Nowaki.

"What's this?" Hiroki's now empty hand drifted down to lightly rest on Nowaki's tight belly.

He watched Nowaki's thick lashes blink, as he gathered the pup in his big hands. Long fingers gently stroked a worn black ear.

"This is Kaze. He was in my basket with me the day they found me on the steps of the orphanage." Nowaki voice was soft and he offered these words hesitantly, embarrassed that his attachment to such a childish object had been discovered.

Hiroki moved in closer and set his chin on Nowaki's shoulder. He reached his hand back up from Nowaki's stomach and gave the toy dog's head a soft stroke. Witnessing this uncharacteristic gesture by his lover brought the first full smile of the day to Nowaki's lips.

"Breeze and Typhoon, that's a fitting match," Hiroki observed in an unusually gentle tone. "Did your foster parents name him?"

"No," Nowaki sighed as he watched Hiroki's hand withdraw. The escort pulled the dog tighter to his chest. "I called him 'Inu' for a long time until I had the language to give him a proper name. I wanted to call him something that would make it seem like we were related… Like family, I guess."

"I had a cat plushie I was fond of when I was small," Hiroki admitted sheepishly after a moment. "Its name was Alien."

Nowaki snorted lightly at this. "Why such a strange name, Hiro-san?" He turned his head slightly to look at Hiroki.

"I don't know!" Hiroki snapped blushing and pretending annoyance, though in truth he was pleased to see the life returning to his lover's face. Then his brow furrowed.

"I guess... Well, I had this weird fear of alien invasion when I was young. I suppose I named him Alien because somehow that made the idea of them less threatening."

Nowaki chuckled at this and received a light push on the side of his shaggy head in response.

"Don't make fun!" Hiroki grumbled.

"I'm not, Hiro-san. I think it's adorable. You're so cute!"

Hiroki scowled at this. "I'm not cute!"

"If you say so, Hiro-san," Nowaki conceded, but the sparkle in his eyes showed he wasn't entirely convinced.

Hiroki met Nowaki's eyes and one of those tiny sacred moments that lovers sometimes share passed between them. Hiroki dropped his gaze back down to Kaze.

"My mom sent Alien to me a while back. He's probably under a pile of books somewhere in my apartment."

"You should find him Hiro-san; I bet he's lonely on his own."

Hiroki looked at Nowaki and was surprised to see that the man was in earnest.

"Well, maybe Kaze could come and keep him company," Hiroki mumbled, feeling his cheeks grow hot.

"I don't know, Hiro-san. I know this is silly, but we've never been apart. I think I might miss him." Nowaki unconsciously pulled the little dog closer to himself again at the thought.

Hiroki's next words were spoken so softly, Nowaki blinked, sure he hadn't heard correctly. "What was that, Hiro-san?"

"I said, then maybe you better come too," Hiroki muttered just slightly louder, bushing furiously.

At this, Nowaki rolled over, bringing Kaze with him. His blue eyes studied Hiroki intently.

"Hiro-san?"

"I'm not saying it again." Hiroki growled.

"Hiro-san, there is nothing more in the world that I would like… but my job…"

"I don't give a shit about your job, Nowaki."

"But your reputation, Hiro-san. If anything I did ever affected your position at the University, I couldn't bear it."

"Look, you don't have to answer right now!" Hiroki snapped. "Just think about it. Mull it over this weekend. Give it a few days thought before you decide against it." Hiroki felt his face burning at the near rejection. It was difficult, however, for him not to admit that Nowaki was right in his concern.

Nowaki looked at Hiroki earnestly. "Thank you, Hiro-san."

Hiroki dropped his eyes embarrassed. "For what?"

Nowaki placed a gentle hand on Hiroki's cheek and kissed him deeply. "For seeing _who_ I am and not _what_ I am." Then he sighed and rolled over again, putting his back to Hiroki once more.

Hiroki slid closer again his body following the contours of Nowaki's. He tucked his forehead into the curve of Nowaki's neck as they shared the futon's single pillow. Hiroki draped his arm over Nowaki once more.

Nowaki took Hiroki's hand, entwining their fingers and drew it up to his chest. "I have to work all weekend, Hiro-san," Nowaki whispered at last.

"Oh?" Hiroki's voice was rich with concern. "Are you going to be up for that?"

"Well, I have a job tonight that's just a straight escort, nothing physical. And the weekend is with Dr. Carter. I met him when I first started escorting… He's nice. Mostly he just wants company… So the weekend should be easy. We're going to Hokkaido."

Hiroki was silent for a few minutes as he processed this information.

"Nowaki?"

"Ummm?"

Hiroki lifted his head and watched Nowaki absently rubbing one of Kaze's threadbare ears with his free hand. The professor suddenly understood where all of the toy pup's ear fur had gone: rubbed off in a lonely boy's unconscious action of self-soothing.

"I know I've never asked you this before, but how exactly did you get into escorting?" Hiroki quickly added, "Of course, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Nowaki was glad that he wasn't facing Hiroki. He gripped his lover's hand tighter.

"I don't mind telling you, Hiro-san."

"I left the orphanage at fourteen, because they had run out of space. The Kusama's told me I could stay as long as I wanted, but if I was there that meant one less bed for someone younger who still had a good chance of being adopted. So I left.

"I had three jobs when I was still living at the Kusama's, but I was giving most of what I made to them to help out and to try and pay them back for taking care of me for so long.

"After I left, I moved in with a group of other boys in kind of similar positions to mine. Then, I met a woman and moved in with her for a while.

"I always believed in pulling my own weight wherever I went. I found I needed six jobs to keep helping the Kusama's as I had been and still have enough for myself to live on.

"Even living with the woman, I was more or less on my own and really struggling. Not having enough education it was kind of hard to get a job that paid very well."

Hiroki listened to Nowaki's story silently. He couldn't imagine how hard things must have been for the man, then just a boy. His own life had its difficulties, but Hiroki realized that many of these were more or less of his own making. He felt his admiration for Nowaki increasing.

Realizing that while he'd been thinking, Nowaki had fallen quiet, Hiroki pressed a kiss at the base of Nowaki's neck. "Go on," he encouraged.

Nowaki released a deep breath.

"It's not an uncommon story, Hiro-san. One day this man, Matsuo, came into the flower shop I was working at and we chatted a bit. Then he started buying flowers regularly and I saw him more often. He showed up at some of my other jobs too. Always he was very friendly.

Then one day he told me he knew a job where I could make a lot more money than what I was, doing one job instead of six.

"I was apprehensive, but at first it was just straight escorting. Getting paid to spend time with people, go to events with them. It was a whole new world for me, Hiro-san. Most of these people were really well off and smart. I got to go to plays and listen to music. See things I never knew existed, go places I'd never get to go otherwise.

"It didn't take me long to learn that there was other stuff that some escorts were doing to make more money and pretty soon Matsuo was telling me I could make more too, if I wanted."

"I told him 'no,' Hiro-san. Then something happened unexpectedly and I needed some money. It was kind of a bad situation. Matsuo told me he'd loan it to me if I'd sign a two-year contract with him. I agreed, but he switched the contracts when I signed them. The one I signed said instead of just doing straight escorting, I'd do everything.

"I didn't realize what he'd done and he didn't press the issue until after the money was spent. Then what was I supposed to do, Hiro-san? There was no other way I could pay him back at the rate of interest he was charging and he had the contract with my signature on it."

"Why didn't you go to the police, Nowaki?" Hiroki whispered.

Nowaki remembered his recent encounter with Matsuo in the pimp's office and a subtle shiver shook his lean frame.

"Matsuo has ties inside and outside the police, Hiro-san. He does a lot of terrible things. He can make bad things happen really easily.

"Besides at first it didn't really seem all that awful, I thought I could handle it all myself. It didn't take long to learn to separate my mind and my heart from my body… And the money was better so I thought I'd be able to pay it off quickly: get in, get out…"

"But?" Hiroki gently prodded.

"Ah… Hiro-san, things are never as easy as they seem, I guess."

Hiroki felt his heart ache at the quiet resignation he heard in Nowaki's voice.

"I'm starting to think the only way to get out of this is if someone buys my contract. Not that this would necessarily be better given some of people who have expressed an interest…"

Nowaki fell silent for a long minute at the thought.

"Matsuo has threatened me with that a few times lately; though I don't think he'll do it. I've been making him too much money so far, I think, for him to let me go like that."

The notion of this possibility gripped Hiroki's heart with fear. "If someone did buy your contract, Nowaki, what would happen to you then?"

Nowaki was quiet for so long this time, Hiroki thought maybe the younger man had drifted off.

"Then I guess, I'd belong to that person," Nowaki whispered at last. "Until I could buy it back."

Now it was Hiroki's turn to be silent. He'd known a little about the trade Nowaki was in, but hadn't realized the true extent of the situation. To be honest, he'd kind of thought that once Nowaki passed his tests and got into college, he'd just be able to quit. Knowing the extent to which Nowaki was truly trapped ate at his heart like acid.

Even more than this though, was the new knowledge that someone else could potentially come in and steal Nowaki from him completely.

"If someone bad buys your contract, could you run away, Nowaki?"

"Hiro-san, I have only ever run away once in my life." Nowaki grimaced as he said this, realizing technically that yesterday with Usami made twice. "Besides… these aren't the kind of people you can just run away from."

"And you know who these people are?"

"Ummm."

After a few minutes of silence Nowaki rolled back over to face Hiroki.

"Hiro-san, I have a dinner meeting with Usami Haruhiko next week. Not for sex, though the meeting is to arrange something along those lines for the future." Nowaki looked at Hiroki, his eyes showed his vulnerability but his voice was strong. "I had him as a client in the past. It didn't go well. Matsuo told me originally I didn't have to see him again, but I guess, he's changed his mind."

Nowaki watched Hiroki pale at these words.

"Why are you telling me this now, Nowaki?" Hiroki was hard pressed to keep the quaver out of his question.

"Because, I want to be able to be honest with you, Hiro-san… About everything." Nowaki dropped his eyes.

"The night we met, Hiro-san, after you had a bit to drink, you mentioned something about Usami Haruhiko that made me think something had happened between you and him… maybe something that was not so good."

Hearing this, it was Hiroki's turn to rollover. He put his back to Nowaki, hiding his face. He was unable to keep his expression free from the multitude of emotions provoked by Nowaki's words.

Hiroki felt Nowaki draw up against him. A lean muscular arm encircled his chest and gathered him in.

Nowaki reached up his other hand and brushed Hiroki's wild bangs off his furrowed forehead. "If I have to be with Usami-san again…" Nowaki struggled to find the words. "I just don't want to hurt you, Hiro-san."

A tremor shook Hiroki's body. "You would never hurt me Nowaki… not like Haruhiko did."

Feeling this sudden quake, Nowaki drew Hiroki closer.

"Hiro-san?"

Hiroki had known that he needed to be honest with Nowaki as well and this was it: that now or never moment.

"When I was young…" Hiroki drew in a deep breath and exhaled a shaky whisper. "Haruhiko… raped me."

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading and please review.<strong>


	25. Chapter 25: Secrets

**The Escort **

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Secrets  
><strong>

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><p>Hiroki was the kind of man who rarely spoke plainly about his life. And this particular aspect of his history was certainly not something he'd ever intended to share with anyone. It was his deepest secret: the private pain that was lodged in his psyche, an eternal pebble in the shoe of his mind.<p>

Master of language that he was, he had sorted through more than half a dozen words before making his declaration. Violated, ravished, assaulted, attacked, defiled, humiliated, soiled: the list went on in all its possible permutations. However, the word he chose spoke most clearly to the truth of the situation as it had happened. It was a a word he'd never thought he would utter and it felt as ugly in his mouth as the act had to his body, but he did not want to leave any room for question.

Once they'd been released from his throat and into the space, Hiroki was shocked at how his last three words charged the air in the quiet bedroom. As soon as he uttered them, Hiroki felt the heat rise in Nowaki's body behind him and the younger man stiffen.

The event of that fateful day had drastically changed the shape of his life and altered Hiroki in ways that he could not even begin to measure. Despite all he'd endured, however, never had there been a time that he wanted more to curl up into himself then at this moment, but he resisted.

He lay still, unmoving, holding his breath and waiting to see what Nowaki would do.

Part of the reason for his long-held silence was his pride. After all, what did it mean that he had suffered this indignity? Did it impugn his character in some way? Indicate that he was lacking in strength somehow? That underneath his fiery temper and practiced gruffness, he was, by nature, somehow less than truly a man, despite the fact he was still really just a boy when it had happened?

The other reason he'd never told anyone was the relative isolation of his life. In truth, Hiroki had never had anyone that he could trust enough to share this kind of vulnerability with, outside of Akihiko. And yet, he could never mention it to him, as his friend was inextricably tied to the whole terrible series of events.

Hiroki had known, however, that at some point, if he was to ever truly be with Nowaki, he would have to tell the younger man something.

And today, seeing the haunted look in Nowaki's eyes, the careful way the man was moving, Hiroki knew that the time had come. Not just because it was obvious to him that Nowaki would understand what he had been through, but also, because Hiroki didn't want Nowaki to feel alone in his own shame.

He had for years now, and there were times that the weight of it had all but crushed him.

Hiroki was roused from these thoughts as Nowaki shifted subtly behind him. He tried not to tense, but he jumped slightly when a warm hand brushed through his bangs again. Hiroki felt soft lips gently brush the ball of his shoulder where the sleeve of the tee shirt he was wearing had risen revealing his flesh.

Nowaki drew back from this soft kiss and whispered, "Tell me what happened, Hiro-san."

Hiroki felt the tears rising to the surface of his eyes at the tenderness in the younger man's voice. There was no rebuke here, no disgust, just a quiet invitation.

Hiroki drew a deep breath and swallowed hard. He felt panic rise in him when Nowaki's body pulled away, but this only lasted a moment before the taller man pressed up against him again. He was shocked when suddenly he saw Kaze set down in front of him: Nowaki had left off spooning him only to grab the little stuffed dog.

"You can tell Kaze too, Hiro-san. He's very easy to talk to. He's the keeper of all my secrets."

Hiroki wanted to snort at Nowaki for being ridiculous. _I'm full grown man, I'm not about to talk to a stuffed toy!_

And yet... Nowaki's voice was so earnest Hiroki had a sudden clear vision of a little black-haired boy, whispering into Kaze's tattered ear in the dark of his lonely orphan's bed. Hiroki reached out a slightly shaking hand and pulled the dog closer, regarding Nowaki's glassy-eyed confessional.

It wasn't, however, until Nowaki placed his gauze wrapped hand on top of his that Hiroki was actually able to begin speaking.

"I met Akihiko when I was ten. We were best friends after that first meeting and for the rest of our childhood.

"I suppose I was about fourteen when I fully understood what I felt for him."

Hiroki paused after saying this to see how Nowaki would respond to his mention of Akihiko, but outside of slightly tightening his grip over his hand, the younger man said nothing.

"Akihiko had started changing. He had always been quiet, impassive… unless he got mad. Though there were few things he appeared to care about enough to get angry over.

"I think that's one reason why he liked spending time with me. I was angry enough for both of us." Hiroki drew a deep breath; he could feel Nowaki's slight smile at this behind him, even if he couldn't see it.

"Then one day, as I was on my way to this place that Akihiko and I used to spend time at on the Usami estate, I found Akihiko on the trail. He was just sitting there. Although he wasn't crying, I had never seen him looking so sad.

"When we were younger, Akihiko had kissed me once, to stop me from crying. I don't know what I was thinking that day... I guess I thought I'd return the favor, so I kissed him. He uh… responded… quite fervently.

"I was surprised… pleased too, I guess.

"That was until Haruhiko found us.

"It didn't seem like Haruhiko was mad or even surprised. But then he was even more stone-faced than Akihiko.

"I didn't know him very well. He'd only been living with Akihiko and his parents a year or so then. He was two years older than us, and I hardly ever really saw him.

"As Haruhiko's mother was one of Usami-san's mistresses, Akihiko's mother didn't want him in the home. She had him put into a local boarding school, so he was only at the estate occasionally... weekends and during school vacations.

"Anyway, after he discovered us, Haruhiko told Akihiko he's been looking for him and that he needed to get home. Then he told me I should go home as well, which I did.

"I was frightened that whole night that Haruhiko would say something about what he'd seen. Maybe tell his father or mine, but he didn't. When I saw Akihiko the next day, all he told me was that I should stay away from his brother.

"I didn't think much of this. I knew the two didn't like each other and even though Akihiko was my friend, his brother had never acted against me.

"A few days later, I had an extra swimming practice. I went over to Akihiko's after. We were supposed to study.

"Tanaka, the butler, who usually answered the door, wasn't there. Haruhiko greeted me instead and offered to take me up to Akihiko. He said that his brother had found a new hiding place in the attic where he had been holing up to write.

"Akihiko did stuff like that, so I didn't even question it, I just followed."

Up to this point, Hiroki had managed to keep his voice even. He closed his eyes and felt the tears this motion displaced slip down his cheeks. He cleared his throat and when he started speaking again, he could hear a subtle tremor beneath his soft growl.

Nowaki must have heard it as well, because he suddenly pressed against him more tightly.

"He took me up to the attic and opened the door to this room." Hiroki felt himself grow dizzy as the memories came flooding back.

_He ushered me in and I walked forward._

"There was a western style bed in the room and a desk, but little else."

The gravel in Hiroki's voice began to wear through the usual smoothness of his low tones. "I don't really know exactly what happened next, Nowaki.

_Haruhiko pushed me. Hard… _ "All I remember is crashing into the bed... I was completely caught off guard and the next thing I knew..."

_Haruhiko was kneeling on my back and all my wind had been knocked out of me_.

Hiroki's breathing grew labored at this point. His heart was pounding in his chest and it felt as though his breath had left him once more. A terrible, familiar sense of terror surged through his torso.

"Hiro-san," Nowaki offered the name in a soothing tone. He flexed his bandaged hand over Hiroki's. He placed a soft kiss on the side of Hiroki's neck where the mad flutter of his heart was visible.

"He had planned it," Hiroki whispered, he was caught again in that instant, unsure of what words he was softly saying out loud from what cried out inside his head.

_There were scarves tied to the headboard already. He caught my arms and restrained me before I had even gotten my breath back. He didn't gag me. He told me that only women screamed and that I should take it like a man. _

Hiroki choked on his next words. "He said, if I was too loud, someone would surely come."

_And how would it look for us to be caught like this. What if it was Akihiko?_

"Then he did what he wanted."

_He stripped off my trousers... hardly prepared me at all. He tore me badly_…

"There was blood," Hiroki said this last bit with gasp.

He stopped to regain his composure and was shocked to feel a wet warmth on his neck. It was then that he realized Nowaki was silently crying over him. For some reason, this filled him with a new strength.

"He forced me to keep my eyes open."

_I had to watch his awful expressions as he loomed over me._

"When he was done, he took pictures with his phone."

_He sent them to his e-mail. He told me that if I wanted these to remain in his __private__ collection, I'd best remain silent_.

"Then he untied me and let me dress. He walked me to the door as though nothing had happened."

_I could still feel my blood and his cum running down my legs and I could barely stand._

"I thought it would end there, Nowaki."

_That I would just go home and never go back to that place. That somehow I would be safe then._

"But Haruhiko insisted on walking me home."

With this Hiroki rolled over so that his body was facing Nowaki. He'd carried Kaze with him and now the little dog was pressed between their chests. Nowaki silently wrapped his arms around Hiroki once again and pulling him into him. Hiroki tucked his head beneath Nowaki's chin, even as the younger man settled this over his wild, dark head.

"Haruhiko told me on my way home that if I didn't continue to submit to him, he would do to Akihiko what he'd just done to me."

_Only worse and far more often._

Hiroki's voice was barely audible. "He said, 'I will leave the choice to you..." _Whether you want to be your little lover's white knight or not Kamijou-kun... _"And left me at my front door."

"I stayed home the next few days from school. I told my mother I was unwell." Hiroki offered a bitter snort at this, despite the tears that were freely falling.

_In truth I was terribly sick, but it wasn't the flu as I'd pretended._

"Akihiko stopped by to visit once, while I was out. He asked me if I hadn't come over as we'd planned because I had started feeling ill that day and I said 'yes.' We never spoke of it again.

"I protected him for the next three years, Nowaki.

"Eighteen times Haruhiko called on me and I answered."

_Sometimes he offered me to others._

"Every time he fucked me, he made me face him…" _Watch him in his outrage_... "That's why I never let anyone take me from the front."

_I've tried, but his hideous face is the only thing I can see._

Never had Nowaki felt so furious, but he forced his rage aside. There would be a time for anger later. Right now quiet comfort was what was called for. He pulled Hiroki tighter as he tried to quell the tremors shaking his lover's lean frame. He reached out long fingers and tenderly stroked Hiroki's head.

"Oh, Hiro-san…"

Hiroki choked out one more final disclosure.

"The last time Haruhiko took me, my father caught us together and that was when he refused to recognize me any longer as his son." It was only here, after all he'd said, that Hiroki's voice finally broke.

_And that was when Haruhiko was sent away for good and it finally stopped._

"I should have stopped it earlier, but I was so messed up then.

"Do you understand now, Nowaki? You and I… we're really not so different."

* * *

><p>Nowaki was not a person normally inclined to tears. Actually it had been years since he'd really cried, despite the fact his life had given him a multitude of reasons to.<p>

In truth, before this morning, Nowaki couldn't recall the last time he'd wept. At a certain point in his childhood he'd abandoned his tears, understanding he had no one to share them with, except Kaze, and that in the end tears changed nothing.

Not so today, and the significance of this was epiphanal.

Through humbling himself with the earlier apology and now this disclosure, Hiroki had shown Nowaki his value; he had reconnected him with a sense of humanity that Nowaki, just now, understood he had lost long before the events of the previous evening.

In fact, far beyond the sexual violence he'd so recently endured, what had been so shattering about Jackson's actions and his comment was that it just confirmed what Nowaki had believed at his core from the time of the last tear he'd shed as a child: that he was nothing, a disposable object, something of little or no value.

But here, in the eloquence of his acts, even more than his words, Hiro-san had unequivocally refuted this. Considering this, Nowaki found he could no longer contain the flood that now rose up within him. He was overwhelmed by Hiroki's sacrifice.

It was a curious mixture falling from his eyes. Some of these tears were from rage at the atrocity Haruhiko had visited upon his beloved. There were also tears for Hiro-san himself, for the terrible pain the man had endured; the awful decision he'd been forced to make; for the legacy of loneliness and loss his tragic circumstances had bestowed on him.

Nowaki well understood the cost to someone as proud as Hiro-san in making such a confession. He also guessed the reason Hiroki had had made it. He was astounded to find that because of Hiro-san's incredibly courageous act, despite his anger and his grief, stronger than these, there was yet another type of tear he was shedding: one of profound gratitude.

Never in his life had anyone ever shown him such kindness. Nowaki was filled with an incredibly deep sense of love and an unfamiliar joy.

It left him without words for a moment. So, instead of speaking, he nuzzled the wild mop at Hiroki's brow. Nowaki breathed in, as much as his tear-impaired nose would allow, the comforting scent of Hiro-san's shampoo-fresh hair, and beneath that the more subtle flavor he had come to associate with old books and knowledge.

He pressed a kiss to a furrowed forehead.

Though Hiroki made little noise, Nowaki could feel the front of his tee-shirt growing increasingly damp with his lover's quiet tears.

Nowaki knew implicitly that what Hiro-san needed more than anything right now, was this release, to rid himself of the unshed tears, the shame, the secrecy that he had carried with him for the last ten years. So for the longest time, he did and said nothing in attempt to quell Hiro-san's weeping. He simply continued to hold him.

Nowaki 's own quiet tears continued to flow as he embraced Hiro-san's pain along with the man and let go of his own. As the minutes passed, within his arms Hiroki's trembling began to diminish. Nowaki closed his eyes and felt his grasp of language return to him. He kissed Hiroki again, this time on the man's wild crown.

"Hiro-san… ever the knight," he whispered in a voice barely louder than a breath.

* * *

><p>In the safe silence of his lover's arms, Hiroki's spinning mind had finally stilled.<p>

Despite his tears, within the warmth of Nowaki's embrace, Hiroki felt as though he'd entered the eye of the storm that his life had been for so long. Allowing those words out, sharing his secret and not being scorned or rejected, but gathered in… Never, had he in his wildest dreams expected to find this kind of sanctuary.

With his face hidden in Nowaki's broad chest, Hiroki allowed his tears to well up and flow out. He was like a spring in early thaw, his emotions bubbling up, poring forth as all the frozen parts of himself melted.

Memories swirled and spilled forth, not just of what Haruhiko had done to him, but of the bitter pain of his silent endurance, coupled with his unrequited love.

So many times he had wanted to shout at Akihiko_, "Do you not know what I'm doing for you? The least you could do is love me back for it just a little!" _

As much as this experience should have made him hate Akihiko, it seemed the opposite had happened. He'd had become even more determined to protect him with every debasement. He loved Akihiko more, despite the fact that with each violation he felt even less worthy of his best friend's affection.

That very sense of unworthiness was what had enticed him to make such a bold move that one time he'd asked Akihiko to fuck him, years after his ordeal with Haruhiko had ended.

Started as a drunken dare after an alcoholic spree, Akihiko despondent that the man he loved had yet another new girlfriend, in his own state of mild inebriation, Hiroki had offered himself. Even then, although he didn't believe Akihiko could accept him, he knew could be the stand in for Takahiro, just as he had been Akihiko's for Haruhiko.

He'd told Akihiko that the blindfold would enable him to imagine Takahiro more clearly. Though in reality Hiroki had wanted to see his unrequited's face in the act and could think of no other way to manage this.

It was true that in that moment, Hiroki had hoped that his joining their flesh might possibly, in some way, free him of his aching need or that somehow, even blinded as he was, Akihiko would see the truth of his heart. What happened instead of either of these was a rejection that had all but crushed him, and an extended period of awkwardness between them that had taken some time to surmount.

Now, however, Hiroki was grateful for the rejection. Otherwise, he would have never found Nowaki: Nowaki who had seen him as he was, for who he was… even now, despite his terrible confession, and had still taken him in with love.

For the first time in years, Hiroki felt safe. More than this, though, for the first time in as long as he could remember he felt human.

* * *

><p>Nowaki was resting with his eyes closed, when he realized that at long last, Hiro-san had finally stilled.<p>

"Hiro-san," he whispered.

Hiroki cleared the last of his tears from his throat, "Hmmmmm?"

"I always knew you were amazing, but I have to say… never in my life have I met a stronger or better man than you have shown me today."

Nowaki could feel Hiroki blush against him. His words were humble, but he spoke them with truth. It was a small thing to offer in exchange for the pride the older man had relinquished. Still, the affirmation was a soothing balm to Hiroki's raw psyche.

Nowaki gathered Hiroki in tighter and both men jumped when Kaze emitted a squeak of protest between them. Nowaki released Hiroki, chuckling lightly as he drew back and pulled Kaze out from the midst of their embrace.

He rolled over and set the pup on the small night table; as he did this Hiroki rose from the bed.

"Hiro-san?" Nowaki uttered his name with a bit of anxiety.

Hiroki turned back slightly but kept his head bowed, not ready to meet Nowaki's eyes again just yet. "It's okay, Nowaki. I'm just going to wash my face," he assured before he quietly left the room.

Nowaki sat up a bit. He listened to the water being run in the bathroom. Looking down at his damp shirt, after a few moments' consideration he pulled it off. He was using it to wipe his own face when he heard Hiroki re-enter the room.

His face still muffled by the fabric, Nowaki started slightly when he felt a gentle hand on his head. Looking up he saw Hiroki standing beside him. The man's cheeks were pink; his dark eyes still red as he hesitantly met his gaze.

"Here," Hiroki growled holding out a warm, damp cloth. "This might work a little better."

Nowaki accepted it gratefully. "Thank you, Hiro-san."

Hiroki lifted his hand from Nowaki's head after giving it a rough ruffle. He nodded and stepped around to the other side of the bed.

Nowaki washed his face with the cloth. He finished and watched quietly as Hiroki stripped out of his shirt and then unfastened his jeans and pushed them down, his boxers with them. His eyes followed Hiroki as the man clumsily folded these and moved to drape them over the back of the single chair in the room.

Taking his cue from Hiroki, Nowaki silently stripped out of his sweats and slipped somewhat stiffly under the futon's covers. He held them up as Hiroki returned and crawled into the narrow bed with him.

Both men settled down together in a loose embrace, legs entwined, bellies bumping. In the brush of their naked flesh against each other there was heat, but it was a comforting warmth: the simple pleasure of the press of skin against skin, without the friction of sex.

Nowaki disentangled himself only long enough to flip his damp pillow over to its dry side. Their heads soon shared the pillow once more. They lay there face to face, cautiously studying the other, regarding each other with an expression of quiet wonder.

Then Hiroki tentatively leaned in and took Nowaki's lips between his in a way that was infinitely tender. Nowaki raised his hand to gently cup Hiroki's cheek. No sooner had Hiroki pulled back ending the kiss, than Nowaki leaned in seeking another.

After he broke their second kiss, Nowaki studied his lover for a moment again. Then a slight look of concern came over his handsome face. "Hiro-san, don't you have to teach today?" he asked softly.

Hiroki dropped his eyes and light blush crept into his cheeks. "I cancelled my classes.

"I didn't know how long it was going to take for me to find you."

_And I wasn't going to stop looking until I did._

Nowaki smiled at this. He brushed a damp brown lock back from the older man's forehead. Then he moved in and once again caught Hiroki's mouth.

The two men opened up to each other. There was no fighting for dominance here; instead there was a shared love, a sweet affection, a communication of a new and profound intimacy.

Though both Hiroki and Nowaki were still broken, healing passed between lips and tongues from one man to the other.

Nowaki paused in the midst of their exchange to whisper, "I'm glad you found me Hiro-san."

Nowaki felt Hiroki's breath on his lips. The warmth permeated all the way into the depths of his chest as Hiroki whispered back.

"I'm glad you found me too, Nowaki."

* * *

><p><strong>Dudes, I don't know about you, but these last few chapters have wrung me out. Hope you enjoyed the read and this lull in between storms.<strong>


	26. Chapter 26: Afternoon

**The Escort**

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Afternoon**

* * *

><p>Nowaki sighed and opened his eyes in the dim light of his bedroom. The first thing he noticed as his vision adjusted was that Hiroki was no longer lying beside him. His heart clenched at this absence. Nowaki pushed himself up and his sore, sleeping muscles suddenly awakened as well. He exhaled a shaky sigh and ran his long fingers through his shaggy bangs.<p>

As he reached for his phone on the small night table so that he could check the time, he noticed a glass of water and some analgesic sitting there also in front of Kaze.

Nowaki smiled at Hiro-san's thoughtfulness. He took the pills and downed the water. Looking at his phone he saw it was now early afternoon. He checked his messages and was surprised not to have missed any calls from Matsuo. He let out a soft breath of relief, though his chest burned with anger at the thought of what Matsuo had subjected him to.

Nowaki rolled over carefully and grabbed his sweats off the floor. He sat up and stiffly pulled them on. He lingered on the edge of his futon for a moment, and then he pushed himself up.

Wincing as he bent down to straighten the bed, Nowaki noticed a sheet was missing. He shifted his gaze and saw Hiroki's clothes still draped over the back of the chair. Immediately his heart lifted. He dropped the coverlet to the futon and moved quietly out of the bedroom.

Stepping into the main room, Nowaki's eyes immediately fell on a reading Hiroki. The man was still naked but for the stolen sheet wrapped around his trim waist. He was sitting with his back against the wall, knees bent, in a sun patch cast through the narrow glass doors that lead to the apartment's tiny balcony.

Hiroki's closed laptop was set off to the side and he had his book bag open beside him, books and papers spilling out of it. However, rather than the materials he'd brought with him, the book he was reading was the "brother" text, the lovers had discussed before they had made their apologies to each other.

Nowaki felt his breath catch and his heart filled to bursting at the sight of Hiroki sitting as he was. He marveled as always at the tight beauty of professor's lean muscular torso.

The warm afternoon light pulled the highlights from Hiroki's auburn hair. With the light shining through the thin fabric of the sheet he was wearing, Nowaki could see the silhouette of long, muscular legs.

All traces of his earlier display of emotion were gone, Hiroki's handsome face now wore its usual expression of fierce concentration. But, even so, there was something slightly different about it: Hiro-san looked lighter and somehow younger.

Nowaki stood silently watching his lover for a minute. The picture of Hiro-san reading in the sun was so beautiful he never wanted the moment to end.

However, after a bit of time had passed, Hiroki eventually felt Nowaki's eyes on him. He pulled himself reluctantly from the world of the text and looked over. Hiroki's cheeks blushed slightly at this first conscious encounter, after their shared confessions. He nodded at Nowaki and then turned his uncomfortable eyes back down to his book.

Padding silently over, Nowaki knelt down slowly once he reached Hiroki. Without a word, Hiroki opened his thighs and Nowaki slipped easily between them, settling himself in the midst of Hiroki's draped legs, leaning back against his bare, sun-warmed chest.

Hiroki eventually put the book down and wrapped an arm under one of Nowaki's, encircling the younger man's chest. He ran the other hand through Nowaki's hair in a clumsy sweep.

"How are you feeling?"

"Stiff… but better."

After all the words they'd exchanged earlier neither felt much like talking.

"Did you take the medicine I left out for you?" Hiroki asked after a time.

"Yes. Thank you, Hiro-san," Nowaki replied closing his eyes as Hiroki's hand ran absently through his bangs again.

"I took it from your medicine cabinet, I hope that's okay. I had a headache myself after… well, yeah… I had a headache." Hiroki didn't want to bring up the embarrassing fact of his tears again.

"Mmmmmm… It's fine Hiro-san." Nowaki tipped his head back and opened his eyes. He studied his lover's stern face and smiled at Hiroki's worried expression.

"And how are you, Hiro-san?"

"Fine… Better actually," Hiroki admitted looking away and out the glass doors to the chaotic world outside their momentary sanctuary.

Nowaki could feel the truth of this leaning against the man as he was, Hiro-san's energy seemed somehow much quieter than usual, almost peaceful.

"I made some soup while you were still sleeping. It's probably not very good. It's in the fridge now," Hiroki offered. "I kind of had to guess at the recipe since you don't have any internet and I couldn't look one up online."

Nowaki drew a deep breath and the faint lingering smell of Hiroki's cooking tickled his nostrils. "I'm sure it will be fine," he soothed, feeling the tension start to creep back into the body beneath him.

"Nowaki, you don't keep your cupboards nearly as well-stocked as you keep mine." Hiroki looked back down meeting Nowaki's bright blue eyes, his expression accusatory.

"Well, I cook more at your house then my own recently." Nowaki replied mildly.

After this neither man spoke for several minutes, they just sat together in quiet communion. Then a cloud slipped stealthily over the sun and the patch of light they were cocooned in, slid into shadow.

Without a word, both men seemed to understand that the tranquil spell they'd been caught in had been broken. Nowaki rose first, not wanting Hiroki to worry about him anymore, he consciously tried to cover his stiffness. He stepped over into the tiny kitchenette and filled his electric kettle.

Hiroki stood a moment later and after re-wrapping the sheet around himself, moved over to the small refrigerator to retrieve the soup for heating. As he straightened he saw Nowaki watching him.

"What?"

Nowaki beamed at him. "You look a little like a monk draped like that, Hiro-san."

Hiroki frowned at this, suddenly self-conscious. He hadn't wanted to get dressed when he'd awakened; it was the first time in years that his own skin had felt comfortable to him and he'd wanted to prolong the feeling.

Seeing how his comment had disconcerted Hiroki, Nowaki stepped over to him and wrapped his arms around his sheet-clad lover from the back.

"It's a very good look for you, Hiro-san," Nowaki murmured nuzzling into Hiroki's neck. "Not that I've ever seen you with a bad look. You're so cute after all."

This comment caused Hiroki to squirm a bit. He acted as though he wanted to pull away, but not too strongly.

"You're so weird sometimes, Nowaki!"

Sensing the falseness in Hiroki's struggle, Nowaki tightened his grip and placed a tender kiss on Hiroki's bare shoulder. "Yes, Hiro-san, you're exactly right, I am so weird… but I'm right too... You are so cute."

More than the younger man's words, the press of Nowaki's bare chest against the skin of his back was stirring Hiroki. He began to struggle a bit again and this time he was in earnest: given Nowaki's condition he didn't want anything to "come up" that his lover might feel compelled to attend to.

Hiroki extricated himself from Nowaki's arms with little difficulty. He moved out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom; he turned back before disappearing into the next room. "I'm going to get dressed. I'll come back and heat up that soup in a minute."

Nowaki said nothing; he just smiled.

Hiroki emerged a few minutes later, completely dressed and carrying a clean tee-shirt for Nowaki, only to discover that the younger man had gone ahead and heated the soup himself and set this out on the low table along with some rice, pickled fish, and vegetables.

"I would have helped," Hiroki grumbled handing Nowaki the shirt before sitting down.

Nowaki pulled the shirt on over his head and sat down across from Hiroki. "I don't mind, Hiro-san."

After a quick blessing, the two men dished up and began eating.

"What time do you work tonight, Nowaki?" Hiroki dropped his eyes to his bowl immediately after the question.

Nowaki pushed a piece of fish around in his dish with his chopsticks. "The car will come pick me up at seven." He was quiet a minute then, Nowaki spoke again.

"Hiro-san?"

"Hmmmmm?" Hiroki looked up, his eyes curious.

"I don't want to impose and I know you're very busy, but would you stay tonight? I have to leave early tomorrow for that trip to Hokkaido and otherwise, I won't get to see you again until Monday."

Hiroki set his rice bowl down and picked up the bowl with the soup in it.

"I checked my phone while you were sleeping. There was a message on it from a bookstore telling me that a text I'd been looking for had come in. I suppose if I went and got that this afternoon, along with the papers I already have, I'd be fine for work tonight while you're gone." Hiroki blushed a bit as he said this, but it wasn't from embarrassment, it was from pleasure: it meant a lot to him after the events of the morning that Nowaki still wanted to be with him.

And after what the younger man had been through the previous evening, Hiroki also wanted to make sure that Nowaki returned home safely, even if it was scheduled to be a non-intimate escort.

Hiroki took a sip of his soup, his eyes were warm as he watched Nowaki glowing across the table from him at this concession. Then he grimaced and set the bowl down.

"Don't drink that, Nowaki!" Hiroki warned as he watched him take his first sip of the soup.

"Why, Hiro-san? What's wrong?" Nowaki looked puzzled.

Hiroki ran a hand through his auburn mane. "I don't know… I must have done something wrong when I made it. It tastes off."

Nowaki took another sip despite his lover's assertion. "I don't know, Hiro-san. It tastes fine to me."

"Don't be polite, Nowaki." Hiroki scowled. "You can tell me if you don't like it!"

"I'm not, Hiro-san. Really it tastes fine." Nowaki smiled and raised his bowl for another sip to show he was in earnest. He was telling the truth. It really did taste fine. He figured Hiro-san was just being too hard on himself again as he was prone to do. The man was so often frustrated when things he undertook turned out to be anything less than perfect.

Hiroki frowned at this. He looked at his bowl on the table and then back up at Nowaki who was just finishing the last of his broth, eying the young man suspiciously.

Nowaki set his bowl down. "I'll drink your soup too, Hiro-san, if you're not going to finish. I'd hate to see it go to waste."

Hiroki's frown deepened, but eventually he nodded. He passed his bowl over to Nowaki and felt his cheeks grow hot when the younger's blue eyes twinkled as he said, "indirect kiss!" and placed his lips on the bowl where his own had been.

"Weirdo," Hiroki muttered and he turned his chopsticks around and picked up a few more vegetables, adding these to his rice bowl. "There's no accounting for taste."

Nowaki set his second bowl of soup down for a moment. He stunned Hiroki by leaning over the narrow table and planting a kiss on his lips.

"On the contrary, Hiro-san," Nowaki said gently. "I have excellent taste. After all, I picked you, didn't I?"

No sooner had he said this then Nowaki picked up his bowl and went back to peacefully sipping his soup, leaving Hiroki to his annoyed sputtering.

* * *

><p>Hiroki shifted in the chair he'd been sitting in for the last fifty minutes. He looked at his watch and wondered how much longer he had until Nowaki woke up and got worried that he hadn't returned yet.<p>

After their late lunch and doing the dishes, Hiroki had convinced Nowaki to go back to bed and try and get some more rest, while he went out to pick up his text from the bookstore.

Only there was no book.

Hearing Nowaki's story earlier Hiroki had decided he had to do something. He just couldn't stand by and watch Nowaki be slowly destroyed by the trap the young man had found himself in.

Hiroki still had the card for the escort service Haruhiko had given him in his wallet. He had intended to throw it away after his first "date" with Nowaki, but once he'd met the young escort, he had been unable to part with it.

As soon as he'd left Nowaki's, he'd ducked into the nearest cyber café with his laptop, pulled out the card, and done a little sleuthing. It had taken him a bit of time to find what he was looking for, but he was a researcher by profession after all, so it wasn't that difficult.

So now here he was, sitting in Matsuo's front, the waiting room of the man's "modeling" agency.

Adjusting the strap of his book bag nervously, Hiroki tried to breathe deeply, hoping that this would soothe the ache in his gut. He'd come here without an appointment and had been told that Matsuo was out and wouldn't be back for at least half an hour.

He'd also been warned the man's schedule was full, but Hiroki had informed the receptionist it was a matter of extreme importance and offered that if Matsuo-san had any time at all he would be exceedingly grateful.

Hiroki had told the secretary too that he was more than happy to wait to speak with her employer. He was worried that if he didn't act now, he might lose his courage. When the receptionist had asked the nature of his "important" business with Matsuo he had answered simply, "Kusama Nowaki."

He had spent the some of his time waiting, figuring out how he was going to approach Nowaki's pimp. He'd spent the other part of his time watching the parade of beautiful, young men flow in and out of the office. As the time had passed, however, Hiroki had inevitably pulled out a book. Though his head was so full he hardly saw the words on the page before him.

The professor looked up from his text when he noticed that the general buzz in the reception area had suddenly fallen quiet.

A man had entered the room. He was dressed impeccably, but he had a hard-worn face and rough features. He was flanked by two men, obviously his protection.

Hiroki swallowed hard. There was no doubt in his mind that this was Matsuo. The professor watched the man stride over to the receptionist's desk. The woman shrunk back from him, even as she stood to greet him. Then she bowed and offered Matsuo a sheaf of messages.

Hiroki watched her speak in timid tones. Suddenly Matsuo snorted and growled loud enough for Hiroki to hear him say, "I don't see fucking anybody without an appointment."

The young woman at the desk bowed again and said a few more rapid words amidst her apology. Hiroki watched, as at this, Matsuo's gaze shifted over and alighted on him.

Pierced by the manager's feral stare, Hiroki rose from his chair. He kept his face neutral and offered Matsuo a bow.

A predatory light flashed in Matsuo's eyes. He turned his gaze back to the receptionist and said in a loud voice. "Shift those two brats I'm supposed to see now to four thirty and send him in to me in fifteen minutes.

"Oh, and while I'm in conference with my unexpected 'visitor,' hold all my calls."

The young woman bowed again, and Matsuo turned and entered into his office, the door being held open for him by one of his guards.

Once the door closed behind him, Hiroki sank back down into his chair. He was oblivious of the curious stares the other occupants in the waiting area were giving him. He was too busy focusing all his attention on trying to regain control of his wildly pounding heart.

* * *

><p><strong>So much for Egoist peace. The rollercoaster has started its next ascent. <strong>

**Is it terrible that I was made incredibly happy by how many people said the last chapters made them cry? I am an evil bastard, I fear.**

**Thank you for all the reviews!**


	27. Chapter 27: Negoitations

**The Escort **

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Negotiations**

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><p>After the door closed behind Matsuo, Hiroki took a deep breath, trying to still his internal churning.<p>

He recalled Nowaki's whispered words, _"ever the knight,"_ and reminded himself of why he was there. With this, the strange peace he'd inhabited for most of the afternoon returned to him.

While he felt far from invincible, he did feel stronger than he had in ages.

After a long fifteen minutes he heard his named called by the receptionist. He stopped by her desk to thank her again for speaking to Matsuo and getting him seen. The woman's expression, however, revealed she didn't feel as though she had done him any real favors.

One of Matsuo's guards had remained standing outside the pimp's office door. He opened this now and ushered Hiroki in. The professor only hesitated a moment before adjusting the strap on his bookbag once more before he squared his shoulders and stepped inside.

He didn't look back as the door shut behind him. He did turn, however, when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Matsuo's other guard dog had been standing at the back of the room, just inside the entry.

"Your bag," the sunglassed thug said simply.

Hiroki looked at his bookbag and frowned. "I have some important texts in there and my computer." He made sure his voice was steady as he said this, letting the man know by his tone he would comply, but that he wasn't a pushover.

Behind him, seeing his reluctance, Matsuo barked out a harsh laugh. "Tsuda will give it back to you eventually. It's just a matter of security. You might have a hard time believing this, but not everyone is fond of me."

At this comment, Hiroki turned towards the pimp, who sat behind his elegant desk. He seemed to consider Matsuo's words for a moment. Then, he slid the bag off his shoulder and handed it to the guard.

Matsuo carefully studied the young man before him.

A soon as he'd seen him in the other room, his interest had been stirred. Hearing from the receptionist that he was here in regards to Kusama had really piqued his curiosity. He had been trying to get the tall escort to recruit for him for months now, but so far Nowaki had refused.

This "Kamijou" youth, if the stupid girl at reception had gotten his name right, had a certain unconscious beauty about him. While he wasn't as tall as the men Matsuo normally liked to employ, he was a little more than average height.

The pimp's keen eyes tracked the composed way Kamijou moved across the floor towards him. His clothes were casual but with a slightly formal edge, and well kept. The book bag and the youth's comment indicated "student" which pleased Matsuo, as this type was always hungry for money.

Hiroki stopped at a respectful distance from the desk and bowed politely.

Matsuo was stuck by the young man's handsome intensity, and sensed beneath this a delicate strength. He could think of a dozen clients off the top of his head who would want Kamijou immediately.

Matsuo remained seated and nodded instead of returning the bow.

"So Kusama sent you? Maybe that big idiot is finally taking my lessons to heart!" Matsuo reached for a cigarette from the gilded case he kept on his desk.

Knowing that the best way to lure a new stud in was to get him into his debt immediately, even for something seemingly minute, he offered one to Kamijou.

Hiroki, however, frowned, hearing Matsuo's words and shook his head declining the smoke. The pimp sensed he was wary and decided to change his tactics.

"Do you have a portfolio in that bag? Head shots?" Matsuo asked brightly. Keen manipulator that he was, Matsuo knew how to be disarmingly charming in order to make people feel comfortable before he pounced.

"Honestly, you're shorter than what I usually want for my models, though your body… At least what I can see of it isn't half bad." As he said this, the pimp reached for his lighter. He observed the slight blush that crept in to the young man's cheeks at his comment.

_This kid is fresh_.

Now Matsuo definitely wanted him.

Leaning back slowly in his chair, he took a deep drag from his smoke. "Considering your height, I do have some other work I might be able to swing your way."

He tried to make it sound as though he was being generous, doing the youth a favor. "However, it might mess with your study schedule a bit. What's your major, uh… Kamijou, was it?"

Hiroki kept his face blank, despite the heat in his cheeks, realizing instantly what the man was doing. "Excuse me, Matsuo-san, but I am not a student, nor am I here for a job."

Matsuo's brows rose at the quality of Kamijou's voice. The timbre was far lower than he'd expected and the delivery was crisp, professional even.

"Oh? So, then why are you here taking up my time?" His expression suddenly shifted to something much colder. Hiroki tried to quell the shiver that shot up his spine as an element in the pimp's expression immediately reminded him of Haruhiko.

Hiroki knew from all the forced summer internships during his teen years at his father's company, that there was a cadence to how business was conducted. However, he didn't want to prolong this, so instead he started bluntly.

"I am here to inquire about a piece of your property."

Matsuo's eyes widened but only for an instant at this direct approach. Kamijou was certainly challenging his presuppositions. The pimp felt a flash of anger that his usual skills of perception had failed him but he also felt curious.

"Oh?" Matsuo puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette.

"I wish to discuss the contract of Kusama Nowaki."

Matsuo's eyes lit up and his anger shifted to amusement. "Really? And what is Kusama to you?".

"I met him a few weeks ago through your service. I'd like to secure his company indefinitely."

"Interesting way of putting it, Kamijou," Matsuo murmured as he cast his mind back.

"Ah… Kamijou, now I remember." His eyes glowed as he recalled the name. "I thought it sounded familiar." He looked slightly disbelieving. "You're a Professor?"

Hiroki nodded.

"What is it that you teach again? Philosophy?"

"Literature," Hiroki softly corrected, being sure to keep his tone right.

"Interesting."

Matsuo ground out his barely-finished fag. "You hardly look old enough to be a professor, or much like a professor at all, for that matter. Maybe if I'd had a teacher like you, maybe I would have stayed in school."

Hiroki ignored the comment and the man's lewd tone.

"You seem to have done very well for yourself regardless, Matsuo-san." Hiroki indicated the opulent office. "And as a successful business man, I would think you would appreciate a direct proposal, time is money after all, especially in your business.

"So, regarding Kusama-san," Hiroki continued, "I imagine you would set a price based on his expected earnings for the time he has remaining in his contract?"

Professor or not, Matsuo found himself admiring the young man's nerve. This Kamijou was proving to be rather intriguing and he sounded far more composed than Matsuo remembered in their initial conversations weeks prior.

"Plus an additional fee your trouble," Hiroki added, "Of course."

"Of course."

After another moment of careful scrutiny, Matsuo purred condescendingly, "Still, Kamijou, I hardly imagine that someone who teaches college will have the means to make such a price. Kusama's anticipated earnings are high.

"Of course, you'd know that, since you paid for him once."

This barb hit home Matsuo noticed as Hiroki's brow twitched at the mention, despite the fact his face remained composed. "But I am sure you two have passed by that all that … You're his lover now, right?"

Hiroki's dark eyes dropped, but just for a moment. Still it was enough to answer Matsuo's question.

"Despite your assessment of my financial situation, I'd still like to know the price of Kusama-san's contract."

"What, you're fucking Kusama and not on a first name basis yet?" Matsuo goaded, trying to press Hiroki's buttons.

"It's a matter of respect how I address Kusama-san in public," Hiroki said simply, though he damned himself for the easy blush filling his cheeks.

Matsuo was finding the professor highly entertaining. He had some of the same mettle as Kusama, which made breaking of boys like this so enjoyable.

"Okay, Okay!" Matsuo gave a false laugh, indicating he was conceding this particular point.

"I really don't want to lose such a good whore, but I'll let you make me an offer." Matsuo had met the professor's dark gaze as he said the word "whore" and saw Kamijou's brow twitch again. This pleased him immensely.

"Tsuda," Matsuo barked after writing a figure down on a piece of paper. His guard moved from the back of the room to the desk and took the slip from his boss. He stepped over to Hiroki and presented it formally with both hands.

Hiroki took the slip with a bow and tried to keep his hands steady and his breathing even as he opened it.

It took every ounce of his will to keep his face unreadable: it was a very hefty amount that Matsuo wanted.

Still, despite his modest living arrangements and his assistant professor salary, Hiroki thought he could manage it.

In addition to what he had in savings, he had a collection of rare scrolls and first edition books. Things he'd begun collecting before he'd even reached his teen years and some passed down to him by his mother's father who was a renowned poet and avid collector. He knew a store that would gladly sell them for him on commission; the owner having actually already made offers on a number of these in the past.

"Please excuse me, Matsuo-san, but this seems rather high for someone so ill-used by you. Given what I have seen of your recent treatment of Kusama-san, it might appear to some as though you hardly value him at all."

It galled Hiroki to say this, to discount Nowaki's value in any way, but if there was one thing he'd learned in business, it was that one never accepted the first offer.

Matsuo smiled wickedly at this. "The price too high, Kamijou? Because that is just the contract, it doesn't even begin to cover the loan."

Hiroki looked slowly up at Matsuo from the paper he held in his hand.

"Kusama did tell you about the money he owes me. Right? Because I am not inclined to release him until I know that all my investment will be returned," Matsuo said slyly.

Hiroki cursed himself for not anticipating this maneuver; he'd expected the loan to be included in the contract price. He knew that pimp had done this on purpose.

"And how much exactly does Kusama-san owe you?"

"Does Kusama even know you're here, Kamijou?" Matsuo suddenly shifted gears. "He hasn't really ever struck me as the kind of man who wants others mucking around in his business."

The pimp grinned, as, for the first time, the young man before him suddenly looked a bit nervous.

"No, he doesn't know I'm here," Hiroki said finally, "and I'd like for it to be kept that way."

Seeing that these words only served to widen Matsuo's shark-like grin, Hiroki added, "besides, since you essentially own him, it seems you'd have the final say in this matter, whether Kusama-san likes it or not."

Having his power acknowledged in such a factual manner pleased Matsuo greatly. It was obvious to him now Kamijou was a far cry from some of the teary and hysterical lovers he'd dealt with in the past.

He nodded in agreement at Hiroki's assertion.

"Look, normally I wouldn't give you this information, but I rather like you, Kamijou-kun. You seem like a smart fellow, so I'm going to do you a favor, instead of telling you to stop wasting my time and get the hell out of my office."

Matsuo took another piece of expensive stationary and his fine ink pen and scribbled down another figure. In an instant, Tsuda, who had remained standing close by, retrieved this and handed it to Hiroki.

This time when Hiroki unfolded the paper he couldn't help but for his eyes to widen. Rather than grow pink he felt the color drain from his face at the size of the figure before him.

Matsuo leaned back in his chair again, enjoying the show immensely. _And here I thought I'd be trapped in boring business meetings all afternoon._

"This can't be right," Hiroki muttered. He looked up. "Why in the world would Nowaki borrow all that money?"

The use of his whore's first name and the look on Kamijou's previously stoic face was priceless. Matsuo considered what to tell him.

_Drugs? Gambling?_ In the end he decided the most devastating answer would simply be the truth.

"He took out the loan to help rebuild an orphanage," Matsuo chuckled.

Hiroki blinked, his expression uncomprehending.

"His orphanage burned down, and the insurance wasn't paying. He took out the loan to house the children and get the rebuilding started."

Hiroki felt his heart drop. As much as he didn't want to believe what he was hearing, it rang true with what he knew about Nowaki's nature.

"What's the interest?" Hiroki fought to keep the hesitance out of his voice. He'd had no idea when Nowaki had mentioned the loan how much it was.

"Twenty percent," Matsuo offered smugly.

Looking back down at the paper in his hand Hiroki muttered, "I have a hard time imagining Kusama-san would agree to anything so stupid."

"I'm sure it didn't seem stupid at the time. His Mama-san was supposed to pay him back once the insurance was settled, but by then there were other expenses and since she'd been left widowed, with sixty kids to look after, I guess Kusama didn't have the heart to take her money."

Matsuo watched as Hiroki processed this information.

"If you're smart Kamijou you'll drop him. He's a losing investment any way you cut it."

Hiroki suddenly felt sick, knowing that, despite his hopes, Nowaki would probably never really be able to buy his own freedom. He was filled with a sudden anger at his lover for being so kind to a woman who'd never even formally adopted him, though he knew even as this flashed through his mind, Nowaki had more likely done it for the children.

Considering this, the sacrifice he was making almost every day with his body and what it was for, Hiroki was suddenly filled with an even greater love for Nowaki, despite his anguish at the situation.

"Hey, but if your appetite for Kusama is so strong and you're really determined to help him pay it down, I can put you to work too, Kamijou-kun."

Matsuo laughed. "I'm sure it will pay a lot more than anything you'll ever make as a professor. I could even schedule you two to work doubles, that way you two could still spend your evenings together."

Hiroki felt his anger, slip from the slow burn he'd been feeling into a barely contained rage. He focused his gaze on the paper he held in his hands, afraid of what Matsuo would see if he looked into his eyes.

He was gripping the parchment so tightly his fingers were white.

"One month," Hiroki whispered, lest his voice crack.

"Wah? What was that Kamijou?" Matsuo cocked his head slightly to the side.

"I said, _one month_," Hiroki uttered the words clearly this time. Now that he was resolved his flashing eyes raised and stared at Matsuo intently.

Matsuo frowned at the fierce gaze. "_One month_, what does that mean?"

"Give me one month and I will have the contract fee and the loan amount for you!"

This was not how it was supposed to work. Given his business and all it's various levels, Matsuo had years of experience milking money and service from poor lovers and family members desperate to redeem their enslaved loved ones.

This was where Kamijou was supposed to break down, beg for lenience, make uncomfortable promises. There was none of that quailing here. What the young man said was stated with a brash certainty.

This sure manner inflamed Matsuo; he rose from his chair. "Why in the hell would I give you anything?"

Tsuda tensed beside his employer waiting for an order.

After a moment of silence Hiroki offered, "Do you who Kamijou Hiromasa is?" He said this coolly, playing his wildcard, using a tactic he'd hoped desperately to avoid.

Matsou's anger flickered, his rough brow furrowed. "You mean the president of Kamijou Corp?"

"Ummmm… There's a saying pertaining to literature, I am sure you are aware of. It's trite but it's true, Matsuo-san. Have you ever heard _don't judge a book by its cover_?"

"Kamijou Hiromasa is my father."

Now it was Matsuo's turn to lose color.

"He has been indulging me in my penchant for literature with the understanding that when I am thirty I will return to the company." Hiroki was pleased with himself for being able to deliver the lie so smoothly.

"So, while I must say, the amount that Kusama–san owes initially surprised me, I don't think it will be unmanageable. It's just going to take me some time to make the necessary arrangements."

Matsuo looked at Hiroki skeptically. Though inside he was furious with himself for how rudely he'd treated the young man, if what Kamijou had just said was true.

"What is it with Kusama and you presidents' sons?" Matsuo muttered.

"Someone else is discussing his contract with you?" Hiroki tried not to sound too alarmed by this comment.

Matsuo stared at him, regaining some of his lost composure. He hummed non-committally. "I'm afraid I don't discuss clients with clients, Kamijou-san."

Hiroki noticed the change in address as well as subtle shift in the man's tone. Still what Matsuo said bothered him immensely.

"You mean Usami Haruhiko, don't you?" Hiroki's previous conversation with Nowaki and the younger man's unexpected mention of Haruhiko just after the discussion of someone buying his contract now suddenly made sense.

Matsuo kept his face still but the flicker in his eyes gave Hiroki his answer.

"Look, Kamijou-san, if someone wants to offer me the whole amount at once, who am I to pass it up? I should have sold him a while ago in truth, but he's just such a good little whore… So industrious."

"How much to hold Kusama-san?" Hiroki asked glossing over the snide insult to Nowaki.

Matsuo's eyes narrowed. He paused for a minute considering how far he could push.

"A quarter of the total will hold him, but for two weeks, not a month and then he's up for sale to the person with ready cash."

Hiroki knew this wouldn't be long enough for him to get the funds together with what he had planned, but the two weeks might buy him enough time to make sure that Haruhiko wouldn't be able to get his hands on him.

"Done."

"I want the quarter tomorrow," Matsuo said crisply.

"Five days," Hiroki countered, "and I want you to call and tell Kusama-san he has the night off."

"What kind of bargaining is that?" Matsuo snorted. Then his face became pensive. "I'll tell you what Kamijou-san, two days and you take Kusama's place tonight."

Hiroki blanched at this suggestion. "Given my station it hardly seems appropriate."

Matsuo smiled at this.

"Perhaps… But I need to check and make sure you are who you say you are, Kamijou-san, and, given the amount of money you're about to spend on someone just a few rungs above a common street whore, I have to say I am surprised that you're worried about this possible slight tarnish on your reputation.

"Think of it as collateral for me."

Hiroki frowned at this. After a minute of silence he said, "No sex. Kusama-san said tonight was a platonic affair."

Matsuo reached for another cigarette and sat back down in his chair. He picked up his lighter and flicked it.

"No sex," He agreed around his cigarette. He drew in and exhaled out. "Just a straight companion escort. He's a well -known Manga ka named Ijuuin. Perfectly harmless."

Hiroki pondered this a moment. "Alright… Three days and Kusama-san's date tonight."

Matsuo sighed as though he was defeated. Haruhiko wouldn't be back in Tokyo until next week anyway. "Fine. Three days, a quarter down, and the date."

"Call Kusama-san. Now please." Hiroki's tone was resolved.

Matsuo exhaled a ring of smoke. "What Kamijou-san? You don't trust me? How wounding."

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later found Hiroki outside Matsuo's building. He collapsed into the first bench he found, his legs unable to hold him up any longer. All his energy left him and he couldn't stop shaking.<p>

Maintaining his composure in front of Matsuo had taken almost everything he had.

He had stood there with Matsuo, listening on speaker phone as the pimp had informed Nowaki his date had cancelled and that he wouldn't be needed, but that the client was paying anyway since the notice was so short.

For Hiroki, hearing the relief in Nowaki's tired voice had made his decision more than worth it. There was no way Nowaki should be out and about when what he needed more than anything was to rest.

With a shaking hand Hiroki pulled out his phone. He ran through the lie he'd made up about an emergency meeting with Miyagi that would keep him away until late. He wondered how long he should wait before he called Nowaki, knowing how disappointed Nowaki would be, thinking that since he was now off, they'd be spending the night before his trip together.

Instead of phoning Nowaki, however, Hiroki drew a deep breath and put another part of his plan into action.

He trembled slightly as he called his father's personal secretary, Adachi. The man was surprised to hear from his boss's banished son, but after a few moments of tense conversation he reluctantly agreed to pencil the Hiroki in for an appointment late the next afternoon.

That done, Hiroki ran a hand through his wild hair as he considered his next task.

He knew it was foolish, but given the circumstances, he was not about to take any chances with Nowaki's fate.

He reached into his book bag and pulled out his wallet. From this he extracted the card Haruhiko had given him for the service. Flipping it over, he saw the man's scrawled cell number on the back.

No doubt given their history this was Haruhiko's twisted notion of humor.

Hiroki snorted at this bitter irony. Then he dialed Haruhiko's number.

* * *

><p><strong>Getting close to the end of the repost, another three or four chapters and then the new material will begin. That means updates will be spaced farther apart.<strong>

**So tell me readers, do you want the rest in a rush? Or shall I drag it out so you can savor it?**

**Thank you for the reviews!**


	28. Chapter 28: Substitute

**The Escort**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Substitute  
><strong>

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><p>Staring at the polished brass plate that read "Ijuuin," Hiroki thought for a moment the beat of his pounding heart might be more audible than his rapping knuckles. He was in the hall of a posh, high-rise condominium feeling incredibly conspicuous, casually dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt.<p>

In addition to his work satchel, draped over one arm, he was also carrying a garment bag which contained a clean suit. He had a small toiletries case tucked inside this, since he would be heading to Nowaki's to spend the night as soon as he got this escorting job finished.

Tomorrow he would meet with his father and, after talking briefly with Haruhiko on his cell, the older Usami brother had agreed to meet with him on Monday, before Nowaki would be back from his trip.

Hiroki struggled to push these thoughts from his mind. There was enough worry about there to make him go crazy. Right now, however, he just needed to focus on getting through this present crisis.

Glancing down at the garment bag, Hiroki had decided he would wear the suit when he went to meet his father, if it was, hopefully, still clean enough. The formal wear had also been requested by the client, to be brought along, not worn outright.

Hiroki was curious about this, but more than intrigued, he was extremely nervous. He wondered after doing this for two years, if Nowaki still felt this uneasy every time he did a job. He drew a deep breath as the apartment door opened, revealing a man who looked not too much older than himself.

Matsuo had called Hiroki after he'd left the pimp's office and had given him some sparse details about his "date." As he'd been told before, the man was some kind of manga ka and his name was Ijuuin Kyou.

Hiroki felt himself blush as the artist's sharp eyes appraised him, pulling over him slowly from top to toe. He tried not to wince and, far less overtly, did a little looking over of his own.

Ijuuin was tall and had coal-black hair like Nowaki, though it was far more unkempt. He was lean and possessed a certain angular handsomeness, but something in the expression in his eyes was disconcerting and slightly predatory.

"You're no Kurosa, but you'll do I guess," the artist mumbled. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Though you look awfully young. Are you even out of high school?"

Hiroki had begun to offer the man a bow; he hesitated, frowning at these words before completing his greeting.

"What's your name again? Matsuo-san told me it once." Ijuuin sounded slightly bored.

"Shunsuke Hinoki,*" Hiroki offered, trying not to sound put off by the other man's rudeness. Hiroki had told Matsuo that he would not be called by his real name during this venture and instead had chosen the name of a literary character.

"Ah yeah, well come on in Hinoki-kun and we'll get started," Ijuuin stepped back from the door.

"You can hang your things there for now." The artist indicated a hook in the entry.

Hiroki was irritated at the immediate use of his fake first name, but he remained silent as he hung up his things and stepped out of his shoes.

"Do you mind taking off your socks too?"

Hiroki felt his stomach twist uncomfortably; he peered out from under his bangs at Ijuuin. "Matsuo-san said this was 'no contact,'" he growled quietly.

Ijuuin's brows rose at this, then he smiled.

"Shy are you, Hinoki-kun? I rather like that, but no, I'm not going to touch, I just like to look. Surely Matsuo-san told you that."

"No."

"Ah well, I am a highly visual person."

Hiroki pretended not to notice the sly glint of the artist's eyes as he bent and reluctantly pulled off his socks. Nor did he acknowledge the pleased grunt Ijuuin emitted as his feet were revealed.

Barefooted now, Hiroki followed the man into his large front room. Seeing the space, his eyes widened. Before him, lay a scene of mass destruction, empty takeout cartons, scattered papers, art supplies, books, and clothes were lying about everywhere.

"And I guess then you find a certain visual appeal in chaos?" Hiroki muttered, unaware his voice was loud enough for the manga ka to hear.

He wondered if this sort of environment was part of an artist's process. He'd encountered similar scenes when he'd arrived at his friend's apartment to edit for Akihiko at the end of a writing project.

Ijuuin barked a harsh laugh as he confirmed Hiroki's intuition.

"Ah, well, I just finished the end of a deadline a few days ago. Once I get out of my post-completion 'zombie' phase, my date with Kurosa-kun is how I have been celebrating recently.

"I used to go out drinking with my editor, but he's been off taking care of a sick family member or something the last few months... his wife, I think.

"Though to be honest, I have found this new way of toasting the end of a cycle imminently more enjoyable."

Dark eyes scanned Hiroki up and down again. "I'll admit I was pretty disappointed that Kurosa wasn't available, but now seeing you…"

Disconcerted by the way Ijuuin said this, Hiroki shifted his gaze from the mess to the man. He watched as Ijuuin moved over to one clutter-covered sofa.

"So did Matsuo-san bother to tell you the order of things?" Ijuuin leaned down to retrieve something in a plastic bag.

"No, not really," Hiroki answered, his voice belying his apprehension far more than he intended.

"Tsk! Matsuo-san doesn't usually leave his boys so uninformed." Ijuuin said this with his back to Hiroki. "It's really quite simple though." He turned and smiled pulling the plastic from the hanger he'd picked up and revealing a black French maid's outfit, laced with white trim.

Ijuuin smiled watching Hiroki's reaction. This new escort was very cute and it was also obvious, he was very fresh as well. The whole evening suddenly promised to be much more enjoyable.

Looking into wide dark eyes, Ijuuin's grin broadened. "First you clean my flat and then I take you to dinner."

Hiroki's face shifted and his eyes lost their horrified shine and grew stern. "Okay. I'll clean, but I'm not wearing that."

"Really?" Ijuuin's own expression was a combination of amusement and disbelief.

"Ummmmm."

"You know it's been dry-cleaned since the last time it was worn by anyone."

"That's not the point. I'm not wearing anything so ridiculous or demeaning!" Hiroki said hotly.

"I have to say, Hinoki-kun, that I find your lack of 'customer service' rather surprising." Ijuuin's voice was smooth but it carried a bit of an edge to it.

Hiroki's already pink cheeks blushed brighter as the artist's words reminded him why he was there. Not to mention the horrible humiliation that Nowaki must have suffered if this outfit had actually been imposed on him.

"Look, I'm a bit new at this stuff," Hiroki said, softening his tone again, hoping that this rendered it somewhat appeasing. "And as I mentioned before, Matsuo-san didn't clearly explain the parameters of this date to me."

Ijuuin studied the young man standing before him. He was not nearly as amicable as Kurosa, but he was still interesting and his fiery attitude made him even cuter. The artist liked this new escort's spark.

Though Ijuuin would be the first to acknowledge he was a bit warped, he wasn't necessarily a cruel man. He decided to take pity on the blushing youth standing before him.

"What might you suggest as a compromise then, Hinoki-kun?" he asked carefully.

"I don't know…" Hiroki was beside himself with embarrassment but he tried to sound calm and rational. "Perhaps I could just do it in my underwear, _if _you are determined to see so much skin."

"Boxers or briefs?"

"Briefs," Hiroki tried to emulate the tone of negotiation he had been exposed to, working for his father in the summers when he was a teenager.

"Color?" the artist followed, employing a similar pattern.

"Black."

"Done."

Hiroki breathed a sigh of relief. While he hadn't planned on his date even seeing his underwear, he glad that when he'd changed for the evening his chosen undergarment now met with Ijuuin's approval.

_I'll just pretend I'm cleaning a friend's flat while wearing a swimsuit._

Besides it certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd been nearly naked in front of a strange man before, not by a long shot. And in fact, though he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so modest, Hiroki would have happily stripped naked if it meant he didn't have to wear that disgusting maid's outfit.

Agreement met, Hiroki reached down and grabbed the hem of his tee-shirt and began to lift it up over his head. He stopped when he heard the artist call his false name.

He looked up and watched as Injuuin stepped back and swept a pile of debris off his couch and on to the floor. The man settled comfortably into the space he'd just cleared. He leaned back and stretched out his arms along the back of the sofa.

"Now, why don't you, start over but go nice and slow," Ijuuin purred.

Hiroki hardened his gaze despite his blush, which just made Ijuuin laugh. "I think I'm going to really like you, Hinoki-kun."

Hiroki ignored the comment as he began pulling his shirt up once more, gradually this time, revealing his lean, hard torso. "I'll need to know where you keep your cleaning supplies and your trash bags," he grumbled trying to distract himself from the mortification he felt.

"Ah, don't worry," the manga ka sighed with satisfaction as the shirt rose higher and the rouged discs of Hiroki's small nipples were revealed.

"I'll make sure you're well equipped. Though from what I can see, it seems that you already are, far more than I could have hoped for." Ijuuin's eyes glinted as he stared.

Hiroki caught the man's hungry gaze just before his wild brown head disappeared inside the tunnel of his departing tee.

"Good, I'm glad you have the supplies."

He whispered, inside the shelter of his shirt. A vision of his worn Nowaki resting peacefully back at the apartment flashing before his eyes. "Because there's a hell of a lot of trash in here."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> *So the character Hiroki claims for his name is Shunsuke Hinoki, from Forbidden Colors by Yukio Mishima (ISBN 9780375705168).

_Stark, harsh, and as beautiful and ephemeral as a cherry blossom, this is one of the great books of gay literature._

_This is perhaps the most included foreign novel on every "10 Best Gay Books." Written in 1951 by Japan's most celebrated author, the book has become a classic, even surviving Mishima's bizarre seppuku or ritual suicide in 1970._

_Forbidden Colors__ translates as Kinjiki. The first word kinji means 'forbidden.' Ki means desires, but can also means colours in Japanese._

_The story centers around an odd trio; Shunsuke` Hinoki, a famous author in his sixties, disgusted by the decay of age, attracted to the beauty of youth, and somehow, bitter that he, the brilliant one, should not have been spared the indignities of aging. The object of his twisted obsession is Yasuko Segawa, a nineteen year old girl he met when she asked for his autograph. He wondered if he could at his advanced age, still hate women with the same intensity as he had in his youth, through his three marriages. The instrument of this experiment is Yuichi Minami, an incredibly beautiful young man desired by both men and women._

_On some levels, Forbidden Colors is the all Transvestite review of Charles Dicken's Great Expectations. Hinoki is Miss Havisham, an embittered, socially powerful puppet master. Yasuko plays the part of Pip, the victim chosen for no better reason than they are desirable and remind the abuser of lost love and vitality. The part of Estella is played by Yuichi, but while Estella knew she was a monster, and chose to protect Pip by marrying a man who was as much a monster as herself, Yuichi does not even see his evil._

_Hinoki manipulates things introducing Yuichi to the shallow but gratifying world of Japan's homosexual scene. Desired and admired by so many, the basically empty Yuichi draws sustenance from the many men he uses and abuses._

_At the same time, Hinoki arranges for Yuichi to marry the lovely Yasuko, transforming her life to a morass of bitterness, jealousy and humiliation._

_If the trio can be compared to the protagonists of Great Expectations, the two men can be compared to another great work by a gay author, The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde. Yuichi Minami is much like Dorian Gray, always beautiful, desirable, the cruelty within never marring the perfection of his face. Shunsuke Hinoki is his picture, becoming older, uglier and more corrupt as he reveals in the swath of destruction and despair his protoge creates._

_Yukio Mishima saw himself as a modern day samurai, a warrior poet. With the classic Japanese melding of art and war he wields his brush like a katana, scribing word pictures of minimalist structure, haunting beauty, and disturbing impact. Forbidden Colors is not a happy book, it is depressing, angry, hostile, and starkly graceful. It lingers in the mind, a psychic aftertaste that is addictive. The characters are deeply flawed, but you come to care for them, even the hideous Hinoki._

_Like his earlier Masterpiece, __Confessions of a Mask__, __Forbidden Colors__ is assumed to be at least somewhat autobiographical. Considering the manner of Mishima's death, I have to wonder if it was instead prophetic, and that Mishima chose to avoid the fate of becoming one of his own characters._

Text on Forbidden Colours taken from: www . epinions review/Forbidden _ Colours _ epi/content _ 418369670788?sb=1 (take out the extra spaces).


	29. Chapter 29: Dinners and Drivers

**OLD AN: One note... last chapter someone asked about the character name Hiroki chose as his alias. I would imagine he picked it as Shunsuke Hinoki led a man into a dark sexual underworld... he is a symbol of the corruptness that Hiroki sees Matsuo's world pulling young men into.**

**Personally I chose it because to my western ear Hiroki and Hinoki sound very close, so it would be close to Hiroki's name in some way. And the terrible punner in me liked that the surname could be broken down into "shuns uke" which is exactly how I think of Hiroki's character. He is portrayed as an uke but shuns relegation to the conventional stereotypes for me in a number of ways... So that's that.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Escort<strong>

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Dinners and Drivers  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Goosebumps formed on Hiroki's lean limbs the moment he divested himself of his clothes and the cool air of the apartment found his bare flesh. Fortunately for him, the motions of cleaning soon heated his chilled skin.<p>

Despite the embarrassment he felt having to be so revealed before Ijuuin, he moved purposefully around the artist's apartment, gathering debris, sorting out recyclables, and sticking things in trashbags. Hiroki attacked the task at hand with his normal single-minded fervor and spoke only when necessary and then solely to ask questions about where something went.

Once the detritus of Ijuuin's forced creative frenzy had been cleared, Hiroki emerged from the kitchen with a pail of hot soapy water and a scrub brush to rid the man's wood floor from a multitude of coffee and energy drink stains. He surveyed the patterns of the artist's spillage.

How one person managed to make such a mess of things was beyond him.

"You know, Kurosa-kun always keeps up an easy banter when he's here." Ijuuin's voice had a lazy lilt to it as it drifted to him from across the room.

Hiroki knew he was being rude when he answered, by not turning to face Ijuuin who was still sitting on the couch .

"Well, with me banter costs extra." He did set the pail down and turned around, however, at the snort that followed his statement and the low groan that succeeded it. Hiroki noted with mild disgust that at some point, as he had been tidying, Ijuuin had opened his pants and taken out his cock. The artist's purpled dick was not insignificant.

Ijuuin stared at him through heavy-lidded eyes and pulled languidly on himself, obviously relishing displaying his engorged member.

"I suppose it would cost extra for you to do a little polishing here as well then?"

Hiroki crossed his arms over his bare chest and replied defiantly without any trace of a blush. "This date was specified 'no contact' and besides, for what I'd charge you to touch that… You couldn't afford it."

Ijuuin closed his eyes and tipped his head back. He laughed softly, his hand never leaving his crotch. "I like your fire… Matsuo-san wasn't kidding when he said you'd be a good replacement, Hinoki-kun, though Kurosa-kun's not adverse to a little extra cleaning duty."

This caught Hiroki's attention and he unconsciously lowered his arms slightly and stepped a bit closer.

"What do you mean? Kusam.. er Kurosa-san doesn't jack you off. This is a no contact gig. Right?" He kept his voice as flat as possible and hated himself for his curiosity.

A low chuckle burred in Ijuuin's throat. "Oh, no. Kurosa-kun is far more accommodating than you, my irascible Hinoki… Wonderful mouth that boy has… always ready for conversation… and other things…"

Hiroki's eyes dropped to follow the motions of Ijuuin's hand as his cheeks pinked with shame.

"But he won't wear that maid's costume either," Ijuuin sighed.

At the artist's first disclosure a knot had formed in Hiroki's low belly at his second it slipped slightly.

"If you're going to be so stubborn, would you at least hand me that lotion then?" Ijuuin asked with false politeness, his free hand flicked towards a bottle on the coffee table before him.

Hiroki said nothing, but dropped his arms down completely and moved over to the low table, trying hard not to grumble that it was less than two feet away from Ijuuin and easily five times that distance for him.

He scooped it up and gritted his teeth as he bent slightly to offer the lotion to his client with both hands.

Ijuuin opened one dark eye and was not so far gone in the rapture of his manual attentions that he couldn't annoy the young professor with a smarmy grin. As he took the lotion he made sure to brush Hiroki's hand.

"You know those other boys just do anything I say. No question, no dignity, that's their job after all... but you and Kurosa-kun... you're different. I like a bit of resistance. It makes things… _interesting_."

"I'll remember that," Hiroki murmured as he stepped quickly away to return to his cleaning, anxious to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

"Oh, Hinoki-kun…" Ijuuin called to Hiroki's well sculpted back.

Hiroki turned and eyed the man coldly.

"I'd like you to start washing the floor right there in front of me. On your hands and knees, please," Ijuuin purred throatily.

Hiroki suppressed a shiver at the weight of the lust in the manga ka's voice.

"Sure," he growled as if it made no difference to him. He retrieved the bucket, his face hot, as he positioned himself in the designated spot and knelt to start scrubbing.

"Angle your sweet ass this way a bit."

Hiroki bit the inside of his cheek as he silently complied. He knew that Matsuo had arranged this date to humiliate him for his own loss of face earlier that afternoon and to make him think less of Nowaki.

If anything, however, it was having the opposite affect: he was more determined than ever to get Nowaki out of this situation and his admiration for what the younger man had been so stalwartly enduring had grown a thousand-fold.

Dipping into the hot water and leaning on the brush as he scrubbed the artist's floor, Hiroki turned his usual intensity upon this new task. He slipped into a meditative space and tried to stir the bristles enough to mask the rapid slicking of Ijuuin's hand and the building gasps and low growls emanating from the direction of the sofa.

He thought of Nowaki politely declining to wear the maid's costume and a grim smile formed on Hiroki's face. He imagined Nowaki's sweet gentle voice and all the possible permutations of rejection language would allow him.

Hiroki had employed similar strategies long ago to block out other unpleasant experiences. Gratefully, he found quickly he hadn't lost the knack.

Once he started thinking about Nowaki, outside his lover's imagined tones he heard nothing else.

* * *

><p>After he had cleaned enough to satisfy Ijuuin, Hiroki had showered and changed into his suit.<p>

Of course the artist had slipped into the bathroom and informed him that he would be joining.

Once they had it clear that the "no touch" clause was still firmly in place, Hiroki relented. He told himself it was really no different than showering at the gym or a public bath, the only difference being that at those places, he had never been forced to endure washing himself while someone devoured him with his eyes and masturbated.

Hiroki had exited the shower and quickly dressed while Ijuuin stayed behind to "clean himself up."

Feeling much more secure in the armor of his suit, Hiroki had moved about the much tidier front room studying the contents of the man's bookshelves while he waited.

He was surprised to find that as much of an ass as he was; Ijuuin had a fair collection of good novels and oddly a hell of a lot of cookbooks.

He frowned when he saw a number of Akihiko's titles randomly housed amongst the man's shelves. Despite what had happened at the University and in their last awkward phone call, Hiroki still held Akihiko's work in high esteem. It bothered him to see Akihiko's books treated so commonly.

A cold hand gripped his chest at the thought of what Akihiko would say if his friend ever found out what he was doing tonight. Trying to escape this uncomfortable speculation, Hiroki drifted over to the artist's manga collection.

"You read manga?"

Hiroki turned to see Ijuuin enter the room from the hall. The man was dressed in a sharp suit and, considering how he'd looked when he'd first encountered him, despite his recent releases, Ijuuin seemed incredibly revived,.

After his humiliations, Hiroki really had no desire to engage the manga ka in conversation. However, knowing that his function for the night was to "entertain," he finally decided to answer. Even so, Hiroki didn't think much of the genre and while he would be conversational, he would also be truthful and not fawning.

"No, not really."

"Are your books here, Ijuuin-sensei?" He was really only mildly curious but he could tell immediately that this question pleased the artist immensely.

"Ah, yes. These are mine." Ijuuin reached alongside Hiroki, far too close for the professor's comfort, but Hiroki didn't shy away or say anything. The artist handed him a text. Hiroki took it respectfully and opened it.

His keen eyes danced over the pages as he turned them carefully: regardless of the contents, it was still a book.

"So you have created a superhero chef?" Hiroki asked after about a dozen pages, lost in the text so completely he had not noticed how intensely Ijuuin was scrutinizing him.

"Basically." Ijuuin was far more interested in what the escort standing before him thought of his work than he wanted to admit.

"And the subtext?"

The artist's brows rose at the question. None of his previous companions had ever asked that question, not even Kurosa, who was incredibly sharp. He looked at the fierce inquiry held in the bright eyes that stared up at him from the book.

"Appetites," he said without humor.

Hiroki nodded at this thoughtfully and closed the book. "I suppose, given that, it must do well for you."

Ijuuin was surprised by the comment. It was true that, despite its simple surface, the series had been an immediate success and its popularity had quickly propelled him up amongst the industry's top artists.

Offering the book back solemnly, Hiroki couldn't help but slip into scholar mode. "Even with your contemporary style, I can liken elements of your drawings to a dozen historical sources. Did you catch the last Hiroshige exhibition at the Fuji Museum?"

Seeing the brunet was serious and not trying to be pretentious as some of Matsuo's boys were, Ijuuin was compelled to ask. "Are you an art student, Hinoki-kun?" He was finding the complexity of his companion increasingly intriguing.

"Literature," Hiroki offered allowing Ijuuin to continue in the misperception he was a student and not the one leading the classes. "But I enjoy classical things in all their various forms." He blushed slightly, realizing getting caught in the manga as he had; he'd forgotten the situation he was in for a moment.

"Ahh… then you must find my story disappointing, compared to much more substantial works," Ijuuin said this with a note of bitterness as he gestured toward the regular book section of his case.

Hiroki observed with some chagrin that the man had inadvertently pointed to one of Akihiko's novels. He dropped his eyes.

"Only time will tell what is to become a classic."

Then thinking of Nowaki Hiroki added, "Just because something seems simple in some ways, doesn't mean it doesn't contain elements of masterpiece."

Ijuuin was startled by the sudden softness in Hinoki's words and their implications, though he misunderstood them as being directed at him. He studied Hiroki carefully looking for signs the other was flattering him and only detected earnestness in the young man's expression.

"You should keep that," Ijuuin offered, nodding at the manga still held outstretched in Hiroki's hands.

"Ah, that's very kind, but I really couldn't accept it. It would be unprofessional." Hiroki turned pink. In truth, he wanted no memento of this evening.

"Unprofessional? You are a strange one," Ijuuin laughed. Most of the escorts he met would accept any kind of gift and were greedy for more. "It's a first edition. They're out of print now. I'll even sign it for you."

"No, really, I cannot accept it, though it is an incredibly generous offer, Sensei. You should give it to someone more deserving."

"I insist. You will offend me and I'll think your words were insincere if you don't accept it." Ijuuin's voice held the barest tone of annoyance.

Hiroki bowed, though internally he grimaced. "Then, please, I'd be honored to accept it."

"Good, now that's settled, this prior talk of appetites has made me hungry. Let's go eat!" Ijuuin suddenly clapped his hands together happily, placated.

Hiroki followed the man out of the apartment after carefully tucking the copy of the artist's manga in his bag before leaving.

Ijuuin, ever the watcher, looked on approvingly.

Hiroki listened to the man prattle about all the gourmet dishes they had at the restaurant they'd be visiting as they began to head off down the hall. Ijuuin all but smacked his lips in anticipation of their impending meal. His escort however, though he nodded politely, had absolutely no appetite.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Hiroki stood outside Ijuuin's building waiting for one of Matsuo's cars to come pick him up. He had told the pimp he didn't need the ride but Matsuo had insisted.<p>

Hiroki's lips were tingling and he rubbed them again, as he had been repeatedly, trying to wipe off the lingering sensation of the artist's kiss.

His face burned at the recent memory.

* * *

><p>Once they left Ijuuin's apartment, up until the end of their date, everything had gone surprisingly well. Despite what tastes the fast food wrappers and takeout boxes littering his apartment had indicated, the man did know his food.<p>

The exclusive restaurant Ijuuin had been raving about, turned out to be one Hiroki had visited in his father's company when he was younger.

After his initial unease that he would run into his father or one of his cronies dissipated, Hiroki had felt himself relaxing. He'd allowed his client to buy him one drink, but nursed this throughout the evening, desiring to keep a clear head.

Ijuuin on the other hand ordered several and was soon in quite high spirits.

Despite the humiliation at the man's flat, as with the books, Hiroki felt himself gradually pulled into conversation.

While Hiroki was quick to perceive Ijuuin's underlying low confidence and his almost constant need for affirmation, the striking, dark-haired artist was really quite sharp and they had a number of spirited debates, one of these over Akihiko's novels.

Ijuuin read them faithfully but he was not a fan and declared the works "colorless."

Buoyed by the excellent food and the vigorous conversation, Hiroki had felt fairly good when they'd initially returned to the manga ka's flat afterwards, where he'd changed back into his casual attire.

Fortunately, Ijuuin had not demanded to watch and so he was able to retreat to the bathroom and slip out of his suit in peace.

When he'd emerged the artist had made tea and had offered him a seat on the couch while they waited for Matsuo's car to retrieve him. Hiroki had located himself several feet from the artist and as far away as he could get from the place where Ijuuin had previously sat masturbating.

It was not long after they'd sat down though that everything had gone quickly to hell.

"You know, Hinoki-kun," Ijuuin said nonchalantly as he poured the tea. "I have very much enjoyed your company tonight."

Hiroki remained silent and so Ijuuin continued. "I like the way your mind works and your adherence to your values, it's refreshing. Have you ever considered taking a patron lover?"

Hiroki blushed hotly at this. "Excuse me?" He was sure he had misheard.

"Though I am not too much older than you, look at the success I have amassed for myself… And I can only see this growing. I am a determined sort of individual myself… Though I do occasionally need someone to boost my spirits...

"You seem to be a man with a pragmatic nature.

"Let me negotiate your contract with Matsuo… Then, you come stay with me.

"Your words… they somehow inspire me. I can see that I would benefit greatly in my work if I had such support.

"I will pay for your schooling. I am sure that I could get you a position in the literature department at Marukawa too, if you like. It is a house of good standing."

Hiroki's dark eyes grew huge as he struggled to take in what Ijuuin was proposing. His cheeks burned crimson now as he scooched back into the corner of the couch.

"What in the hell are you saying, Sensei?" he gasped as Ijuuin suddenly shot forward and took his face is his hands.

"I am confessing to you," Ijuuin whispered breathily. "I am an artist, a man of appetites, and I love you, Shunsuke Hinoki!"

Turning his head as Ijuuin pressed against him and leaned in for a kiss, Hiroki felt the manga ka's lips graze across the corner of his mouth.

He set his hands against Ijuuin's chest and pushed with all his strength. Not expecting such strong resistance, Ijuuin flew backwards against the cushions.

Hiroki jumped up immediately.

"I cannot accept your confession, Sensei. And you have breached the agreement for this appointment. I am going to wait outside for the car." He nodded down at the untouched tea. "I thank you for the gesture, but I am leaving."

Ijuuin's groin was immediately stirred by the fire in the brunet's eyes. He started to rise from the couch, but halted his motions when his escort growled fiercely.

"Try and touch me again and I swear you will regret it!"

The artist had no doubt from the tone the young man meant exactly what he said.

"Cute," he murmured, as he slowly continued to rise from the couch, holding his palms upraised as a sign of his capitulation.

Hiroki turned and gathered his garment bag from where it was draped over the back of a chair. He strode to the door and gathered his other things from the entry after slipping into his shoes.

Ijuuin had drifted along behind him, keeping a safe distance. He watched Hinoki with a wry grin on his face. This faltered, however, when his escort reached into the bag and pulled out the copy of the manga he'd given him.

"I was wrong to agree to accept this before. I did not mean to mislead you in any way. I must return it to you with my sincere apologies," Hiroki said formally.

Once again, Ijuuin was stunned by the uncharacteristic honor and the regal bearing of the youth before him.

"No, Hinoki-kun, it is I who must apologize. I was out of line, please forgive me. You are right, I overstepped my bounds."

Hiroki's eyes widened as the artist offered him a significant bow. As he straightened, Ijuuin nodded at the text. "Please keep it as a token of my respect and my remorse."

Against his better judgment Hiroki reluctantly tucked it back into his bag.

"And this too," Ijuuin offered. He withdrew a fat roll of bills from his pocket and held it out towards Hiroki with a slightly sheepish air.

Hiroki scowled at the notes and made no movement to take them. "What's this? Matsuo-san told me you already paid him."

"This is your tip, an expression of my gratitude for a most memorable evening." Ijuuin seemed to have regained his composure somewhat and his voice was both humorous and earnest as he said this.

"I don't want it," Hiroki growled and blushed as he took his jacket off the peg in the hall and awkwardly donned it while not relinquishing any of the things he was carrying.

"Ah, you really are so proud and so new to this, aren't you Shunsuke-san."

Hiroki looked up in surprise. It was the first time the other man had addressed him respectfully all evening.

"Matsuo-san takes a percentage of your tips and the driver will be expecting a gratuity."

Ijuuin's smile had returned to him in full.

"So unless your pockets are already lined, you really might want to take this." The artist gestured with the roll of notes in a beckoning manner.

"Did he not explain this to you either? Tsk." Ijuuin shook his shaggy head. "I swear, how that man stays in business..."

This new information appalled Hiroki. Now that he understood this and knew of Nowaki's goals (and his debt), the starkness of the younger man's apartment made complete sense to him.

"Take it." Ijuuin's voice had lost its humor and become quite sincere. "If I know Matsuo, you're going to need it. Besides, it was worth it for your time tonight.

"I can't recall when I have had a more engaging conversation… Somehow even in your stubborn resistance you bolster me."

Ijuuin stepped forward slowly and cautiously pressed the bills into Hiroki's unencumbered hand.

Hiroki stared down at the bills. Before he could say anything in response, Ijuuin leaned in and gave his lips a soft peck. Then he turned and ambled out of the entry and down the hall.

He spoke without looking back, a forced levity in his voice. "I trust you can see yourself out, Shunsuke-san.

"You know between you and Kurosa, I'm going to have a hard decision to make, come the end of the next cycle. I don't suppose you two do 'doubles'?"

* * *

><p>The chill night air caressed Hiroki's cheek calling his mind back from his memories of the evening. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bills.<p>

It was a considerable amount of cash Ijuuin had given him and the weight of it felt far too heavy in his hand. His eyes were distracted from the vice-laden roll as a long car pulled up beside him.

The driver got out bearing a clipboard with a bank envelope attached to the top of it. The man's stature struck Hiroki, as it had when he'd first been picked up outside his apartment. He was well aware that this man was no mere driver: he was also meant to serve as an enforcer, ready at any moment to handle troublesome clients or escorts.

Without grace the man pulled the roll of bills out of Hiroki's hand and set to immediately counting the money. Hiroki cheeks burned with humiliation that he would perform such a crass act so openly; despite the fact the street was relatively quiet.

The burly driver snorted.

"Stupid," he muttered. "This is more than Ijuuin-san said he was going to give you. You should have stuffed the extra away. Now Matsuo-san is going to want his percentage on the overage too."

He peered over his dark glasses craftily. "Look, you give half the overflow to me and I'll mark you down as receiving the previously noted amount."

Hiroki had no idea how driver managed to see at all wearing sunglasses like that at night. This annoyed him for some reason almost as much as the dishonest proposition.

"No." He said simply. "Give Matsuo his full cut and tell him to apply the rest to the principal of Kusama-san's loan."

This caught the driver's attention. He looked as though he thought to say something sharp, but the expression on Hiroki's face stopped him.

Once he'd stuffed the money into the envelope and finished his notations he moved over silently to the door to the back of the mini-limo and opened it for Hiroki. Hiroki gave him the address of Nowaki's building as his destination before entering the car.

After stepping in and sitting down, Hiroki was surprised to see three other men in back.

It was a time of night that many of Matsuo's escort's milder dates concluded, so the driver had been making his rounds when Hiroki's call had come in. He nodded politely to the other men and then sat quietly studying his hands.

"So you were Ijuuin-sensei's 'maid' this month?"

Hiroki raised his dark eyes to locate the owner of the petulant voice that had just questioned him.

He noted with some surprise that he recognized the speaker. The blond youth seated across from him was the boy who had been with Haruhiko at the museum the day the older Usami brother had first given him Matsuo's card.

The young whore occupied the limo seat with an air of ownership and glared at him openly.

Hiroki didn't really want to talk to anyone at the moment, nor did he appreciate the blond's rudeness, but he understood as well he was clearly out of his territory and he didn't relish the thought of anymore trouble this evening.

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose I was," he said softly, though not so quietly as to seem unsure of himself.

"I don't know who the fuck Kusama thinks he is!... Getting away with stuff like that… Getting you to pull his shift…

"He thinks he's so much better than the rest of us… like he's not a whore too!…" The blond all but spat these words at Hiroki.

Hiroki was stunned as to how to respond to this unprovoked attack.

Not only that, but he felt he should be defending Nowaki's honor. As he was trying to formulate a response, two things happened simultaneously. First his cellphone, which he'd left in his bag during his date, buzzed signaling an incoming text. Second, the driver turned around and spoke harshly to the blond.

"Yukio, leave the man in peace!" The handler growled. Seeing the blond open his mouth to begin protesting, he cut the young escort off.

"I mean it! Shut your fucking mouth, Yuki! Before I pull over and shut it for you. I have been listening to you bitch the last twenty minutes and I'm sick of it!"

The tone of the driver's voice not only silenced Yuki, but Hiroki noted the other two young men in the car visibly shrank at the threat.

Once again, Hiroki felt his resolve grow at getting Nowaki out of this harsh environment. As soon as it seemed Yuki had acquiesced and peace had been restored, Hiroki reached into his bag and pulled a few things out, setting them beside him as he sought to locate his phone.

Flipping it open and checking his texts Hiroki felt a melancholy warmth fill his chest at the message.

_Hiro-san, I don't want to disturb you and Miyagi-san in your meeting. Are you still coming over? Don't worry how late it gets, I'll wait up. I want to see you before I go tomorrow. Work hard._

_Love, Nowaki XOXOXOXOXO_

"Idiot," Hiroki muttered. "You should be sleeping." Still, the corners of his mouth quirked up slightly at the message.

_I'm on my way. Be there in less than an hour. Go to sleep, I'll wake you up when I get there."_

_Kamijou_

Hiroki looked up after sending the text to see the pretty, dark-haired youth who sat next to Yuki looking with huge, blue-gray eyes at the things he'd displaced from his bag.

"Is that a first volume 'The Kan'?" the boy breathed excitedly. Despite the eager shine in his eyes, his tone was slightly timid.

"Yes." Hiroki nodded, then seeing the hunger in the pale youth's gaze, he picked up the book and offered it to the boy.

He watched as the young escort reached for it hesitantly and took the manga with an air of reverence. His heart broke a bit watching the petite youth carefully turn through it. He would have been surprised if the boy was a day over sixteen.

"Uwaaaaahhhh," the teen exclaimed appreciatively." Not only is it a first volume but it's signed." Large blue eyes looked up admiringly at Hiroki. "Wow, Onii-san, you're lucky!"

"You like manga?"

"Yeah… soooo, so much!" the boy said happily. The light in his eyes dimmed only slightly as he added. "I used to really want to be a manga artist. Some people think I am a pretty good drawer."

Next to him, Yuki snorted derisively. Hiroki watched the dark-haired boy wince at the harsh sound.

Hiroki frowned witnessing these dynamics. It bothered him the boy's use of the past tense in terms of his dreams, particularly considering how young he looked. "Look, kid, if you want it you can keep it," he offered casually.

Yuki's pretty face darkened immediately in the same ratio as the other escort's brightened.

"Really?" The teen gulped. Then he seemed to catch himself. He blushed and held the book out to Hiroki with trembling hands.

"That's so very kind, Onii-san, but I can't accept something so valuable. I'm sorry."

The want in the young escort's voice was so barely concealed Hiroki felt his heart break a little more for the boy.

"Look I don't really read manga, and I believe a book should belong only to someone who will really appreciate it. Otherwise what's the point of having it? You keep it. I insist."

The shy happiness radiating from the youth was almost overwhelming.

"Wahhhh, Thank you so much!" the teen beamed. He turned to an equally young looking man with black hair and dark brown eyes who was sitting next to Hiroki. This escort had been silent from the moment Hiroki had slid into the car.

"Look,at what he gave me, Kisa-san!"

Kisa nodded and gave the other escort a slight, humoring smile.

They had just stopped at a light when the driver took a call on his cell. He looked in the rearview mirror and spoke to the teen holding the manga. "Chiaki-chan, that was Matsuo-san. Sorry, son, but you just got a late-night request from Hatori-san, so I can't take you home."

The enthusiasm in the teen's blue eyes died immediately, and the boy pulled the book closer to his chest as though it was a shield.

"Tori?"

The boy whispered the name in a shaky exhalation. Hiroki watched as Kisa rose up off the bench next to him and slipped over and sat down next to Chiaki. He set a thin arm around even thinner shoulders.

"It'll be okay, Chiaki-kun," Kisa said comfortingly.

At that the smaller boy tucked his face into Kisa's shoulder.

"He was just so rough last time, Kisa-san, even though Matsuo-san told me he would be nice since it was my first time." Chiaki sobbed quietly.

Kisa ran a hand through dark locks. "He said he was sorry though… Didn't he? Afterwards," the older escort soothed.

"Y…yes," Chiaki gulped. "He said he'd be more gentle next time too… I just didn't think he call on me again so soon," Chiaki whispered rubbing his eyes.

"Fucking baby!" Yuki sniffed.

Kisa's brown eyes glared fiercely at Yuki. "Not everyone is a masochist like you, Asshole!"

Yuki's cheeks burned pink; he stuck out his tongue.

"Real mature," Kisa shook his dark head and focused his attention back on the still quietly crying Chiaki.

"Shut up, old man!" Yuki seethed.

"Quiet bitches!" The driver growled and silence filled the back of the car once more until Chiaki hesitantly addressed him.

"Suoh-san, will you hold my manga for me while I'm at Hatori-san's? I'd take it with me but I don't want anything to happen to it."

"What'll you give me as a holder's fee Chi-chan?" the driver leered at Chiaki from behind his dark glasses.

"What do you want?" Chiaki asked shyly.

"Blow job."

"Oh, come on, Suoh-san, give the kid a break!" Kisa snapped.

"You offering to stand in for him? 'Cause that's my going rate."

Kisa looked at the boy sitting next to him and then back up at the driver.

"Fine."

"Kisa-san…" Chiaki's tear-stained face became gravely worried.

"Hush," Kisa gruffed and Chiaki fell silent. "Look, Chiaki, wipe your tears. Hatori's not so bad and you need to give him a bright face when he sees you."

Chiaki sniffled at Kisa's kind tone despite the callous words. He wiped his nose with the sleeve of the expensive shirt Matsuo had ordered for him.

Suoh laughed. "Good, glad that's settled. You give better head anyway, Kisa-kun."

"When we get to Shunsuke's stop you can come up front here, and join me. Nothing like a good blow while I'm driving."

After this negotiation concluded, silence reigned in the back seat of the car again.

Hiroki felt nauseous, appalled by all the trouble his offer of a simple comic had caused. The minutes following this seemed to stretch out interminably until at last, Suoh pulled up outside Nowaki's complex.

"Kisa, Shunsuke, out."

Being closer to the door, Kisa exited first. He glanced at Hiroki and gave Hiroki a bored shrug as he readied himself to climb out.

"No hard feelings, Shunsuke-san," Kisa offered as though he'd read Hiroki's thoughts. "Honestly, I don't mind sucking dick." He dropped his voice and whispered, besides, Suoh-san's hardly a mouthful and he never takes very long."

Kisa smiled slightly before exiting the back of the car only to slip around and crawl into the limo's front passenger seat.

Hiroki blushed at this and dropped his eyes as he eased himself out of vehicle. "Thank you again," Shunsuke-san," Chiaki offered, sounding relatively happy again despite the slight waver in his voice.

"No problem," Hiroki growled not meeting Chiaki's gaze. He just couldn't bear those blue eyes again; they reminded him too much of another's.

He was about to step away from the car when Yuki stuck his blond head out the door.

"Hey, this is Kusama's building."

Hiroki didn't like the sly look that filled the blond's eyes. He liked it even less when Yuki's hand darted out and caught his wrist. Before he could pull away, Yuki pulled him down towards him and hissed, "If you see Kusama, pass a message on to him for me."

Something in the youth's jade gaze stopped Hiroki from jerking away. The young whore's expression was downright dangerous.

"I overheard Matsuo-san talking today… You tell Kusama that if he knows at all what's good for him, he'll stay the fuck away from Usami Haruhiko! Usami-sama is mine!

"Got that!"

Hiroki was so stunned by the blond's words, not to mention the venom they'd been spoken with, he found himself unable to move for a minute.

Fortunately Suoh stepped in wrenching Yuki's hand away and gave a none too light smack to the youth's blond crown.

"What did I say about that mouth of yours, Yuki! Get that ass back in the car or you'll be the next one up in the front keeping me company and I guarantee you won't like it!"

Yuki shot Hiroki one last hateful look before slipping back into the limo's dim interior.

Hiroki adjusted the bags he was carrying uncomfortably. He nodded politely at Suoh, before turning to leave.

"See you around Shunsuke-kun," Suoh drawled.

Hiroki hesitated at this and then shook his head slowly. "No, you won't."

"Famous last words," the driver chuckled, "Especially in this world."

Hiroki watched the man amble around to the front of the car and slip in. He stood there gathering himself as he watched the taillights of the limo merge and fade into the late night traffic.

Gazing up at the building where Nowaki was waiting for him, Hiroki drew a deep breath and sought to compose himself.

He was reminded that it shouldn't be all that difficult… After all, he'd managed to keep up a pretense of normalcy all those years with his family, school, and Akihiko the whole time he'd be subjected to Haruhiko's tortures.

Thinking about Haruhiko brought Yuki's words back to him and Hiroki shivered despite himself.

_I have to save Nowaki from this life, no matter the cost… _

Hiroki exhaled deeply and watched the steam of his breath disappear in to the night. Then he squared his shoulders and straightened his spine as he turned and made his way back to the man he loved.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay darlings, per your requests, I'm not holding back. Let the drama continue. Remember, reviews = love.<br>**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sekai ichi Hatsukoi or any of its characters.**


	30. Chapter 30: Returning

**The Escort **

**Chapter Thirty: Returning**

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><p>Hiroki quietly opened the door to Nowaki's apartment with a key the younger man had given him that afternoon before he'd left. He slipped out of his shoes and hung up his work bag. Stepping into the front room he stopped.<p>

There before him was a sleeping Nowaki.

The young man sat, half-propped, up against one of the front room walls near the low table. His shaggy dark head was bowed, long-fingered hands lightly clasped together, their weight pinned a textbook to his broad chest. Hiroki noted the peaceful rise and fall of Nowaki's breathing, his long, black lashes as they set off his paler-than-usual skin.

Nowaki was wearing the attire he'd been in when Hiroki had left him. The sheet that Hiroki had been wrapped in earlier that day was draped over the younger man's endless legs. Seeing his lover sleeping like this, Hiroki found himself awed by Nowaki's angular beauty.

_Still, he looks hardly older than a high school kid._

The contrast of this peaceful, youthful appearance and the harsh, adult reality Nowaki had been living tore at Hiroki's heart.

Feeling his eyes blur with unexpected tears, Hiroki turned away. He distracted himself by looking at the thermostat. He "tsked" softly as he turned on the floor heaters.

"Brat's going to catch a cold if he's not careful."

Not wanting to disturb his sleeping giant, Hiroki gathered the suit draped over his arm and ducked into Nowaki's bedroom. Though it felt a bit intrusive, he hung his garment bag in the closet. Noting again how few clothes Nowaki had, it wasn't as if there wasn't any room.

Hiroki stepped back and cast his eyes around the small bedroom.

Stepping over to the nightstand, he picked up Kaze, giving the stuffed dog's balding head a rough pat before setting it back down. Hiroki rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He was buzzed from all the drama of the day, though he felt incredibly weary as well. He looked at the bedroom door and thought about the man in the other room.

He wasn't ready to face Nowaki yet.

Though he'd had a shower just a few hours earlier at Ijuuin's apartment, Hiroki decided he needed another. The whole evening, despite the fact there had been barely any physical contact, had left him feeling filthy. Not to mention his earlier interaction with Matsuo or the car ride to Nowaki's apartment.

Hiroki thought about Nowaki's ever growing patch of abraded skin on his hip and understood completely why the man would feel compelled to scrub himself raw. Of course he had already known such compulsion too well, himself, but it had been a long time since he'd felt it so strongly.

Moving across the hall to the bathroom, Hiroki stripped out of his clothes. He turned on the faucet in the tiny shower stall and stepped in. He hung his wild head beneath the spray and allowed it sluice over him. He imagined Ijuuin's gaze as a film coating his skin that the water permeated and washed away.

As he scrubbed himself he visualized the water pooling in his mind, then draining, carrying with it all the sordid images of the evening, as well as the anger he'd fought so hard to keep in check. Yuki's threats; Matsuo's evil grin; Ijuuin stroking his cock, the image of the escort, Kisa comforting the younger, crying Chiaki: Hiroki sighed as he felt his mind empty of these distressing visions. He was watching the last spins of the twisting whirlpool of his memory disappear down a psychic drain when a sweet voice invaded his consciousness.

"Hiro-san?"

Hiroki ran his hands through his heavy bangs and pushed them back off his forehead. He squinted through the steam and saw Nowaki standing there, the flimsy shower curtain pushed back and grasped in one large hand. Nowaki was now naked.

"When did you get home, Hiro-san? And why didn't you wake me?" Nowaki's tone was inquisitive but mild and Hiroki suddenly wondered if he'd ever actually heard Nowaki sound petulant about anything.

Nowaki's blue eyes held an expression of concern, but Hiroki was incredibly relieved to see the brutal weariness that had been present when he'd first encountered his lover that morning had dissipated.

"You were sleeping. I thought you could use the rest." Hiroki watched Nowaki hesitate a moment, a look of quiet request gracing his handsome face, before he gave a nod and Nowaki stepped into the shower facing him.

Nowaki ran hands through Hiroki's water-heavy hair, sweeping it further away from his face. He pressed a kiss against the wet forehead. Hiroki closed his eyes and allowed Nowaki to anoint him: warm lips whispered over his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks.

When Nowaki finally sought his mouth, Hiroki opened himself up without resistance. He drank Nowaki in like the man was sacrament. Dark eyes opened slowly and he gazed at Nowaki with mild confusion when the younger man unexpectedly pulled away.

A wet, shaggy head cocked slightly to the side.

"Hiro-san, you taste like alcohol." Nowaki's statement was made without accusation, but instead a rather patient curiosity.

Hiroki dropped his gaze. He rubbed his nose along the underside of Nowaki's jaw.

"Miyagi wanted to go for a drink after." His chest tightened telling this lie to Nowaki, particularly after all the truth they had shared with each other earlier that day. He moaned in relief when this explanation was accepted without further question and one of Nowaki's hands tipped his chin up and Nowaki gathered his mouth again. After another deep kiss Nowaki pulled away once more.

"Bourbon?"

"Scotch."

"Really? I wonder if I should start drinking more so I can guess better," Nowaki teased gently caressing Hiroki's cheek with a long finger.

"You're too young to be drinking, Brat," Hiroki gruffed. "Besides, too much booze kills brain cells and until you finish your studies you need every one you have."

Nowaki smiled at this. "You're too cute, Hiro-san." He gathered Hiroki's jaw again and looked deeply into dark eyes. "I missed you."

Hiroki felt himself blush at such direct statements. "I'm not cute," he growled fiercely.

"Mmmmmmmm, I hate to contradict an elder, but I'm going to have to say I disagree with you there, Hiro-san," Nowaki murmured. "And I'll show you just how cute I think you are…"

Hiroki's eyes widened as hands left his jaw and slid down caressing his lean sides. He felt Nowaki begin to drop to his knees and he understood immediately what the younger man intended to do. While normally he would never reject Nowaki's skillful attentions, tonight he only wanted his lover's mouth on his own.

"No, Nowaki. Stop!" Hiroki suddenly barked, his voice sharper than he had intended.

Nowaki straightened and in the motion Hiroki could tell he was still very stiff. He blushed seeing the look of confusion in Nowaki's eyes. Even harder to take was the barely masked hurt that glowed bluely before him.

"Hiro-san?"

Nowaki's wounded tone pierced Hiroki's heart. He could feel Nowaki's sudden insecurity, worried that something had changed since they'd parted. Hiroki issued a silent sigh. Knowing his lover as he did, he understood that Nowaki would be holding himself accountable for any shift, frantically searching his mind for his inadvertent offense.

"This shower isn't really big enough for two people," Hiroki grumbled in explanation, though he really didn't want Nowaki to leave. Despite the fact it was hard for him to do this; he reached his hands out and set them lightly on Nowaki's hips, careful of the man's wound. He hoped Nowaki would understand the gesture.

Hiroki was glad he'd taken the risk as, at this touch, relief immediately washed over Nowaki's concerned features and the tension left his body.

Nowaki slipped his arms around Hiroki's waist and gathered him to him. He dipped his head and pressed their foreheads together.

"There's enough room for two in here, Hiro-san, if we stand close." As he said this he pulled Hiroki tighter to him. Hard, water-slick bellies gently collided and other hardening parts grazed against each other.

Hiroki allowed himself to be gathered in. He could feel Nowaki's surprise when he moved his head and slipped it under the taller man's chin. Nestled there beneath Nowaki and the sheltering shower, Hiroki allowed himself to melt just a little. The mask of strength he'd been wearing out in the world during that long and troublesome day finally slipped.

He didn't know when Nowaki had so completely become his refuge, but he had.

Hiroki moved his hands and wrapped his own arms around Nowaki. "I… I missed you too."

He hoped that his words would be lost in the sounds of the running water, but knew instantly by the sudden heat that flushed Nowaki's already shower-hot skin that the younger man had heard him.

At the soft utterance Nowaki felt his heart filled to bursting. He understood that rather than lose Hiro-san as he had feared, the opposite had occurred and that with this rare declaration they had reached a new level of trust with each other. He held Hiroki tighter and was even more gratified to feel Hiro-san cling to him.

Hiro-san had offered him his strength that morning and now he gave it back.

After the exchange that they'd had earlier that day, Nowaki had been amazed that Hiroki had the endurance to go out into the world at all. He himself had wanted nothing more than to stay sequestered, hiding his rawness. This only underscored for him, once again, what a remarkable person his Hiro-san was.

The two men stood there in silent embrace for several minutes, the water flowing over them, baptizing the new union they shared.

"Hiro-san…"

Nowaki breathed out his lover's name reverently. One large hand ran over the familiar topography of his lover's broad shoulders, the other ran soothingly through Hiroki's tangled, water-dark mane.

Hiroki tipped his head up and wet mouths met and merged. In the brush of lips and the soft slick of tongues, Hiroki found himself in awe of the intimacy and sensuality of this touch. With every kiss his lips begged Nowaki's to absolve him of Ijuuin's kiss and Nowaki responded to each frantic petition with an infinite mercy.

Before long, both men's bodies parted, but only enough for anxious hands to slip down, each gently grasping the other's thickening cock. Their kisses dissolved into a mutual gathering of gasps as they attended each other. Finally as the tension mounted, they broke from their oral communion. Their foreheads pressed together once more, as they leaned against each other for support.

Skilled hands, bobbed and twisted shower and soap-slicked flesh, knowing well the motions that would most satisfy. Breaths were measured, subtle hitches and shivers that would have been lost on strangers, noted, as each man listened to the erotic cadence of his lover's building climax.

Nowaki came first, Hiroki not long after.

Before either's breathing had returned to normal or pulses evened, both men dropped their hands and arms encircled each other again, pulling close. They stood there quietly, each lost in the other, neither really noticing the cooling temperature of the water, their bodies burning with a different kind of heat.

* * *

><p>Eventually Hiroki and Nowaki reluctantly left the shower, but they remained naked and carried their embrace with them into Nowaki's narrow futon.<p>

They lay facing each other. Hiroki's head rested on Nowaki's broad chest, one of his arms tucked up between them, the other draped over a lean hip. Nowaki's neck was slightly curled; one cheek lay against Hiroki's still slightly damp head. He had one arm bent beneath his pillow, the other folded over Hiroki's shoulder.

Nowaki's fingers lightly stroked the short, soft hair of Hiroki's nape.

It was almost two a.m. now and Hiroki was too tired at this point to resist such tender touches. Despite his fatigue, however, he was aware that these small strokes were stirring him.

"What time do you have to leave for your job tomorrow?" Hiroki tried to distract himself: he really didn't want Nowaki to stop petting him.

"Dr. Carter's picking me up at seven," Nowaki sighed. His fingers ceased toying with Hiroki's hair and delicately trailed down his spine pulling a shiver from Hiroki. Beneath the sheet, Nowaki trailed lazy circles over a firm ass cheek.

Hiroki grunted as he felt more heat pool into his groin at this touch. He felt the tightness build in his balls and the pulse of his blood pumping his cock to fullness. He tried to cover his annoyance at his growing erection.

"That's damn early. You should go to sleep, Idiot. You're going to be tired tomorrow."

Nowaki's hand drifted down his thigh.

"I'll be okay, Hiro-san, besides I slept most of the day today. Anyway, you should talk. Don't you have an early class tomorrow?"

Hiroki remained silent but he gave one of Nowaki's hard pecs a quick nip for reminding him of that upcoming disaster. Above him Nowaki laughed lightly; then he fell quiet.

"Hiro-san…"

"Ummmm?"

"Will you…" the hand that had been gently massaging Hiroki's lean thigh moved around and grazed his stiff cock.

"Will you take me?" Nowaki asked softly.

At this Hiroki suddenly pushed out of Nowaki's arms and into a half seated position.

"What?" His cheeks burned madly. It wasn't as if he never topped, out in the world he'd been plenty versatile, though so far in their relationship he'd always allowed Nowaki that position.

Nowaki was looking down at the spot Hiroki had just vacated. He plucked nervously at the sheets and even though his head was bent Hiroki could see a light blush on Nowaki's cheeks.

"Nowaki, I'm not sure that's a good idea. I mean after what happened… You're still injured. Plus you have the weekend to get through…"

Uncomfortable blue eyes glanced up. "Ah… well Dr. Carter hardly ever tops… and as for last night…" The pink in Nowaki's cheeks deepened.

"I know this sounds weird, Hiro-san, but that's exactly why I want you to take me… I know you can be gentle and I just… I need to feel you inside of me."

Even as he damned Nowaki for his directness, Hiroki was struck by the plea held in his lover's blue eyes.

"I know it might be hard for you to understand, Hiro-san," Nowaki whispered.

The truth of the matter, however, was that Hiroki did indeed understand precisely what Nowaki was saying. Just as in the shower he had asked Nowaki's lips to purge him from Ijuuin's kiss, so Nowaki was asking here for a similar exorcism.

Hiroki's mind drifted back to his own sordid past, all the strangers he'd voluntarily shared his body with, knowing that in as many instances as he had been seeking a replacement for Akihiko, he had also been looking for someone to drive the memory of Haruhiko from him.

"I'm sorry, Hiro-san," Nowaki's voice was heavy with embarrassment as he turned over and set his back to the startled dark eyes.

Hiroki sat there a moment wrestling with himself, then he made a decision. He reached out a hand and gently stroked Nowaki's raven head. He slid up against the broad back and kissed behind a burning ear.

"I'll take you Nowaki, but I'm not going to fuck you."

Nowaki turned slightly to look at him. "But, Hiro-san…"

Hiroki silenced Nowaki with a kiss. "No arguments." He stated this in a way that was tender but let Nowaki know there would be no further discussion about the matter.

"Bedside table drawer?"

A dark head nodded.

Hiroki leaned over and pulled out the drawer. He winced slightly at the number of condoms it contained and pulled out the lube.

Nowaki's eyes widened as he watched Hiroki pop the top and apply it to himself, once his hand had warmed it. He had lost some of his arousal in the conversation but after a few strokes, worked himself back to hardness.

"Hiro-san, aren't you going to use a condom? I mean, last night… those guys didn't..."

Hiroki halted Nowaki's protests with a stern look. He knew how foolish he was being, but he didn't care. "No, Nowaki. Flesh to flesh tonight. We're in this together."

"Hiro-san…" Nowaki lost all words after uttering the name but his tone was filled with equal measures apprehension and love.

Hiroki dropped his eyes. "I'm sorry, Nowaki, but it still has to be from the back. Okay?" His own cheeks burned at this admission.

Nowaki sat up and took Hiroki's face in his hands. He kissed him deeply.

"That's okay, Hiro-san." He lay back down and settled in on his side, his back to Hiroki once more.

Hiroki leaned down and trailed kisses around the edge of Nowaki's ear, his strong neck, between the broad blades of his shoulders, as a lube slicked finger grazed down the crack of Nowaki's ass. He felt Nowaki tense slightly as the digit traced the fringe of his pucker.

"Tell me if you're too sore or if you want me to stop, Nowaki." Hiroki growled this order gently. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm okay, Hiro-san," Nowaki answered, his voice was tense but not pained.

Hiroki lingered at Nowaki's entrance coating it amply before slowly pushing in. Given the use Nowaki had endured the previous evening there wasn't as much resistance as he had feared. Once he felt secure of Nowaki's comfort he gently worked his finger in and out waiting until he felt muscles relax around him.

Nowaki let him know he was ready further by slightly lifting a lean thigh allowing Hiroki better access. Hiroki removed his finger; he gave his cock a few more slick strokes before taking it and moving himself into position. Nowaki gave a low murmur of want when he felt the wet tip of Hiroki's cock tentatively prod his entrance.

The two men exchanged soft sounds as Hiroki slowly pushed himself in. Towards the end, Nowaki pushed back himself until he felt the brush of his lover's sac against his own skin. Knowing that Hiroki was completely ensconced in him, Nowaki uttered a grunt of contentment.

He was sore but Hiro-san had been so gentle it had not been too uncomfortable.

Though Nowaki preferred to top, feeling himself stretched and filled with his Hiro-san, while it might have reawakened the deep ache in his ass, it did wonders to quell the psychic pain of the previous evening.

Spooned together, Hiroki set his forehead between his lover's broad shoulders. This connection was ministering to him as well. He slipped an arm down around Nowaki's waist and his hand found that despite the discomfort his entry roused the younger man.

"Horn-dog," he grumbled into the warm skin of Nowaki's back.

"Sorry, Hiro-san," Nowaki sighed, not sounding particularly apologetic. "You just feel so good inside me."

Hiroki blushed at this. His still lube-slick hand fondled Nowaki's sac before it encircled his stiff cock.

"Hiro-san…"

Nowaki purred with pleasure at the touch. He ground back against Hiroki's hips and clenched around him.

Hiroki was startled by how powerfully this roused him. "Nowaki, don't, or I won't be able to hold back," he growled.

"Then you'd better stop too," Nowaki sighed. He really didn't want Hiro-san to stop, but he'd known when he'd gripped Hiroki internally, his lover was right: he wasn't up for full intercourse.

"You won't be too uncomfortable if I stop?"

Nowaki could feel Hiroki's blush against his skin and was compelled to tease. "Asks the man with his dick in my ass."

"Brat," Hiroki muttered, but he smiled knowing Nowaki would only be that cheeky if he was feeling better.

"Cute," Nowaki shot back in retaliation.

After this exchange they fell silent for a time.

Hiroki snuggled a bit closer to Nowaki. His hand had ceased its motion, but he hadn't relinquished his grip on the younger man's cock. It felt strange and oddly intimate to feel Nowaki relaxing within his grasp.

"You know I'm liable to slip out when I go soft," Hiroki murmured from his safe place behind Nowaki knowing in this position the younger man couldn't see him blush. However, he was still achingly hard as he said this.

"Ummmm… I don't care, Hiro-san." Nowaki's voice was growing heavy with impending dreams. "Now that you've been in me, I feel like I belong to you again."

Despite how direct Nowaki could be, Hiroki knew he must be on the verge of sleep to be so honest. Still, he was deeply touched by this disclosure. Listening to Nowaki's deepening breaths, his suspicion was confirmed.

As he waited for his hardness to subside, Hiroki realized he didn't want to lose the connection of their flesh: he had never felt this close to another person before.

Hiroki found himself lulled by his lover's gentle breathing. As he gradually felt himself relax within Nowaki's warmth, he knew that despite the ache in his balls, sleep would come soon for him as well. He closed his eyes synching the rhythms of his exhalations with Nowaki's, each breath becoming a wishful mantra.

_Nowaki belongs to me._

_I belong to Nowaki._

_We belong together._

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for the wonderful comments my few and vocal faithful ones. Your thoughts and careful reading bring joy to my long days.<strong>


	31. Chapter 31: The Pick Up

**The Escort**

**Chapter Thirty-One: The Pick Up**

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><p>Nowaki woke Hiroki up the next morning by running a large hand through sleep-tousled hair. He smiled when one of Hiro-san's dark eyes opened and regarded him with weary suspicion.<p>

"Damn. What time is it?" Hiroki mumbled, starting to rise, suddenly worried that he'd overslept.

"Relax, Hiro-san. It's not even six thirty yet," Nowaki assured, leaning down and kissing the already furrowing forehead.

Hiroki sank back down onto the futon, a light sigh of relief escaping him. From where he lay he watched Nowaki slowly straighten and move around to the other side of the bed.

"You've been up for a while though," he noted, observing Nowaki was already dressed and shaved. He rolled over so that he was facing Nowaki.

Despite the emotionally exhausting day before and the late hour that they had gone to sleep, Nowaki, though still stiff, was feeling relatively restored.

He had decided when he'd awakened that morning, that Hiro-san was the best pain reliever he'd ever taken… or that had taken him for that matter. As Nowaki thought this again, a light blush crept into his cheeks.

"Well, I wanted to get ready and have time to make breakfast for you, Hiro-san. And I wanted you to sleep as long as you could. Your day is going to be a lot more taxing than mine," Nowaki, offered trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Ummmmmm…" Hiroki he reached over and grabbed Nowaki's abandoned pillow, hugging it to his chest. Then, despite his best intentions to remain silent, after tucking his head down behind his cotton barricade so that nothing was visible but a wild mop of auburn hair, he asked softly, "Are you sure you're up to this _adventure_?"

Nowaki opened the drawer to the nightstand, biting his lip to keep from uttering "cute" so early in the morning. He had learned that Hiro-san couldn't stomach that designation until he had at least one cup of tea in him. Besides, he would rather continue to enjoy the picture of his lover holding his pillow than being pelted with it.

"I am sure I'll be fine, Hiro-san. I mean, all I have is a car ride to the airport and the flight to Hokkaido, then checking in to the inn. I don't know what Dr. Carter will want to do later, but usually his first day someplace new he likes to be pretty quiet. "

Hiroki had peered back up at Nowaki over the edge of the pillow as he was speaking. His eyes dropped for the merest of moments as he watched Nowaki take a box of condoms and a couple of new tubes of lube from the drawer and casually toss them into a small satchel sitting at the end of the bed. An uncomfortable blush filled his cheeks when he looked back up and saw Nowaki studying him intently.

"Traveling kind of light there, Nowaki."

Nowaki had noticed the subtle shift of Hiroki's eyes. He rubbed the back of his head. "Well, Dr. Carter doesn't like me to bring too much, so I am just packing some toiletries and my textbooks. He likes to buy my clothes for me when we travel together.

"Usually whatever he gets me, I try and sell later, I mean outside of the undergarments." Nowaki leaned over with a slight wince and zipped up his bag not looking at Hiroki as he said this. "It gives me some extra to give Matsuo or Mama Kusama."

Hiroki's brow furrowed deeper at this disclosure, but he said nothing.

Nowaki had told him that the doctor had been his first client when he'd first started casually escorting two years ago. Given this, it was only logical he should speak of the man with some familiarity. Nowaki had known the physician longer than him after all.

Still, Hiroki couldn't help but feel a thin shard of jealousy pierce his heart. And the reminder of where all Nowaki's very hard earned money was going weighed on him mightily.

"I should get up if we're going to eat together, I suppose," Hiroki mumbled pushing the pillow aside and raising himself up off the bed. He'd decided this was the best way to avoid getting any further into this particular discussion. Wrapping the bed sheet around his waist as he had the previous day, he stood up from the futon.

Normally he wouldn't have bothered; he wasn't uncomfortable being naked around Nowaki, but it felt slightly different this morning with his lover standing there completely clothed.

Also, though he didn't want to admit it, the conversation had left him feeling a bit exposed.

"You're going to take a shower then, Hiro-san?" There was a note of tender apprehension in Nowaki's voice, having sensed Hiroki's discomfort.

"Uh huh," Hiroki sighed, "I'll just jump in and out and take a quick shave." He began to move towards the door and was startled to suddenly feel a long arm reach around him and pull him to a wonderfully warm, firm body.

"What the hell?" he barked at the unexpected embrace.

His eyes widened when Nowaki's other arm wrapped around him and he saw Nowaki's hand was clutching Kaze. He had grabbed the stuffed dog from where it had been standing guard on the bedside table.

Nowaki knew that Hiro-san was feeling uncomfortable about his weekend date and trying to hide it. He wanted to assuage the man and let him know that no matter where his body went his heart was staying with him.

"Hiro-san, I know this might sound silly, but after what you said yesterday, will you keep Kaze for me? That way he can stay with you and Alien and he won't be lonely, like we talked about.

"Then you'll have a little bit of me that will stay with you while I'm gone too," Nowaki nuzzled behind one of Hiroki's reddening ears.

Knowing what the little stuffed animal meant to Nowaki and why he was offering it, Hiroki felt his heart clench.

"You're right it is silly. I don't know what moved me to tell you such an embarrassing thing!"

Feeling Nowaki slump slightly behind him at these words, Hiroki reached out and grabbed Kaze before Nowaki could retract him. "I suppose I could keep it though," he growled.

"You're lucky I am willing to humor you, you big goof!" Hiroki could feel Nowaki suddenly straighten and smile behind him.

"Thank you, Hiro-san," Nowaki breathed before slipping back and placing a kiss on the bony knob at the base of Hiroki's slightly bowed neck. Sensing that pushing any further this morning would only cause an outburst, Nowaki reluctantly released Hiroki.

Leaving Hiro-san with his new ward he headed for the door to the main room.

"Do you want any meat for your breakfast this morning, Hiro-san?" Nowaki stopped and asked from the doorway. "I have a bit of fish and a few eggs I should probably use up before I go."

"Either would be fine." Hiroki watched Nowaki smile and nod, before he disappeared.

"Good, I'll have it ready for you by the time you're dressed."

As soon as Nowaki was gone Hiroki looked down at Kaze. The little plushie offered him a lopsided grin.

"Oh, hush," Hiroki muttered.

He went to the closet and opened his garment bag, taking out his clothes for that morning. He set the pup carefully into the bottom of it and before zipping it back up, took something out of the bottom of the bag as well. He quickly opened Nowaki's travel bag and tucked it under the textbooks that occupied the majority of the space.

Seeing a notebook Nowaki had been taking notes in set on the top of the pile, Hiroki opened it and tore out a page. He fished around in the satchel, grimacing only slightly when his hand brushed one of the cool tubes of lubricant.

After a moment's more persistence he met with success and pulled out a pen. The professor jotted a few words, scribbled out a few more and then replaced them. Then he folded the paper and stuck this and the pen in the bottom of the case.

He had no sooner finished this task than he heard Nowaki's footsteps approaching.

Nowaki had gotten concerned when after a few minutes he hadn't seen Hiroki cross the hall to the bathroom.

"Hiro-san," Nowaki called softly, approaching his room. "You didn't go back to bed, did you?" He was met at the door by a flustered looking Hiroki.

"When have I ever done that?" Hiroki huffed as he stepped out into the hall, his nakedness now covered only by the suit he was holding in front of him.

Nowaki had to bite back a laugh at this. "Ummm, I think the better answer is when have you not, Hiro-san?"

"Cheeky brat." Hiroki growled, moving into the bathroom.

"You seem a little cheeky yourself, Hiro-san," Nowaki murmured, smiling as he set a palm on his professor's firm backside.

"Get your over-sized paw off my ass and go tend your fish, I think it's charring." Hiroki halfheartedly swatted at Nowaki's hand.

"Oh shoot!" Nowaki yelped. He dropped his hand and dashed back towards the tiny kitchen.

"Dumb ass," Hiroki sighed, closing the bathroom door behind him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Hiroki came out a short time later dressed in his shirt and tie and wearing socks and his boxers, his pants and jacket were still on a hanger which he'd hung on a closet door. He intended to wear the suit to school and didn't want it getting wrinkled from sitting on the floor.

As usual, Nowaki had set a splendid table.

"That's handsome," Nowaki said pleasantly noting the suit as he sat after putting the last dish down.

Hiroki felt his cheeks heat a little. "A little formality scares the students, it keeps them in line." He took his seat at the table. "And I have a big meeting this afternoon."

Nowaki nodded at this but didn't inquire further. After a quick blessing they began eating in silence.

Hiroki frowned over his tea, looking at Nowaki's bowls. Nowaki had sipped at his miso but his rice bowl had almost nothing in it. "Why aren't you eating, Nowaki? Are you sure you're really feeling okay?"

Nowaki ducked his head, touched by the concern in Hiroki's voice. "I don't like flying, Hiro-san," he admitted reluctantly. "It makes my stomach uneasy."

Hiroki cocked a brow. "Well, why did you do all this then?" he gestured at the table.

"Because I wanted you to have a good meal before I left," Nowaki's voice was soft as he looked up at Hiroki with his piercing blue eyes. He reached his hand across the table and gently took his lover's hand.

"And I wanted us to eat together, like a family."

Hiroki said nothing to this, he just blushed deeply and looked down into his rice bowl. Then he set down his chopsticks and slowly extended his other hand across the table. Nowaki's hand met his halfway. The two men sat there together after this, hands clasped, silent, neither really looking at the other. The only sounds in the room came through the apartment's thin walls as the other residents had begun stirring and the endless traffic hummed by outside.

Nowaki's phone rang.

The two men continued to sit until the shrieking device vibrated itself off the counter and fell to the floor. Then Nowaki reluctantly released one of Hiroki's hands and leaned back, reaching for it with a long arm, refusing to release his grasp entirely.

Looking at the screen he sighed. "Dr. Carter's here, Hiro-san; he's early."

Hiroki nodded at this and slowly slid his hand out of Nowaki's. He looked at the table. "Don't worry, I'll clean up." His voice was quiet and oddly rough. "You better go, Nowaki. You don't want to keep him waiting."

"Ummmmm," Nowaki sighed and stood. Hiroki followed his motion. Nowaki ducked into the bedroom and came out with his bag. Hiroki walked with him to the door.

"I'll make the bed too."

"Ah… Hiro-san you don't have to do that." Nowaki slipped into his shoes. "I made you a bento, it's in the fridge."

Hiroki nodded. "What do you want me to do with your key when I leave? I could slip it under the door if you like."

Nowaki's eyes gleamed as he looked at his lover. Hiroki was half-expecting to hear the dreaded "cute" trip off the younger man's lips, so he was shocked when instead Nowaki dropped his bag and took his face in his hands, kissing him deeply.

It took less than five seconds for Hiroki to feel his resistance abandon him as he moved in returning the kiss with equal passion. When they finally parted, Nowaki brushed a thumb over Hiroki's kiss-fevered bottom lip.

"I love you, Hiro-san, and I miss you already."

Just as the older man had anticipated "cute" a moment before, so Nowaki expected to hear Hiro-san's parting, "Idiot" and push him out the door. Instead however, Hiroki only nodded and dropped his eyes. His cheeks blushed brilliant pink.

Nowaki picked up the bag, and moved out into the hall. He had all but closed the door behind him, when he heard Hiroki say softly, "Return to me quickly, Nowaki. I'll be waiting." just before the lock whispered shut.

* * *

><p>Heading down the stairs to the car park, Nowaki saw Dr. Carter from a distance, standing next to his rented vehicle. The doctor loved driving, even on the busy streets of Tokyo.<p>

Nowaki rubbed his eyes and was surprised at their wetness. He drug a hand through his thick hair, took a deep breath, drew himself up, and painted on a friendly smile.

He walked over to the car nodding when Carter waved, acknowledging his approach. The surgeon was on his cell phone which was a common occurrence. Nowaki stood quietly, waiting until the doctor concluded his call.

Dr. Carter was American, in his early forties, blue-eyed, his hair a silvered salt and pepper. His body was fit and trim but had that solidity that comes to men of a certain age and used to a certain amount of comfort.

In his home country, Nowaki had little doubt that the doctor would be considered quite handsome.

"Dr. Carter." Nowaki bowed politely.

The man turned off his phone and offered Nowaki a dazzling white smile and rather than bow back, extended his hand.

"Ah… Nowaki, such formality, I thought we'd be past that by now, but perhaps it's been so long since I visited you no longer consider us friends?"

"Ah, sorry, Sir. Of course not," Nowaki replied, straightening and taking the proffered hand.

"Good, good." The physician looked Nowaki over once. "You've grown again since I last saw you." his keen eyes narrowed.

"You look a bit paler than I remember too. I hope you've been taking care of yourself." Carter's voice was hearty but laced with concern.

Nowaki felt himself warming to the man's kind, but rather intrusive observations. He reminded himself that Dr. Carter had always conducted himself honorably, if in the slightly obnoxious manner that foreigners often unknowingly did.

"Too many late nights, I suppose," Nowaki offered back in a tone that suggested far more humor than he felt.

"Indeed, in your line of work I imagine that's a risk. Well, we'll get you out during the day this weekend and maybe you'll pick up some color. How does that sound?" Carter's voice was jovial as he stepped over and opened the passenger door. As Nowaki moved forward to enter the car, the older man seemed to notice his bag for the first time.

"Ah, I see you still have the bag I bought you a while back. That's nice, but I thought I mentioned that you wouldn't need anything for this trip; I plan to take care of everything. "

Nowaki knew that as good-natured as he seemed, the doctor could at times be hard to please. Carter was a man who liked to have things done a certain way and was used to having people follow his directions.

"Yes, Sir. Please excuse me, but I wanted to bring some books with me."

"Oh? Planning on doing a little pleasure reading, Nowaki?" Carter cocked his brow at his companion.

"No, Sir. Only, if there was time, I thought I might do some studying."

Dr. Carter seemed to ponder this a moment. "English?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I wondered if you're studying English, Nowaki. Your accent seems much improved from my last visit."

Nowaki felt his cheeks heat slightly at the comment. "Ah, thank you. A friend has been tutoring me. But actually I am studying for my college placement exams next week."

This news actually seemed to make the doctor momentarily more pensive, then he broke out his smile again. "Well, I am all for self-improvement, though I hope you won't find your book more interesting than me."

Nowaki gave the man a warm smile of relief, "No, Sir. I promise."

"Well then, if that's settled hop in. I'm anxious to explore these new conversational skills of yours. We can chat on the way to the airport and you can fill me in on what else you have been up to since my last visit." Dr. Carter set a warm hand on one of Nowaki's broad shoulders as he ushered him into the car.

What neither man knew was that from behind one of the pillars supporting the tiered outdoor walkways, their exchange had been being observed.

No sooner had Nowaki shut the door than Hiroki had flown into the bedroom and pulled on his jeans from the previous evening with the man's house key still in the front pocket and quietly slipped out the door trailing silently behind.

As he'd followed, Hiroki hated what he was doing: stalking his younger lover went against both his pride and his internal code of ethics. Even when he had been pining for Akihiko, he had never stalked, instead he hung back always letting his friend call first or come to him directly.

Standing there in the shadows, observing the exchange between Nowaki and his client, Hiroki found himself despising the other man immediately. For one, Carter was as tall as his giant…

"Why in the hell do they have to grow them so damn big in the States?" he muttered under his breath.

As if the man's height was not offensive enough, in and of itself, there was that overly familiar western way.

_And where does he get off calling Nowaki by his first name? _It didn't matter to Hiroki that the two men had been intimate for some time. After all, Hiroki had fucked with some guys repeatedly when he was in the most self-destructive phase of his youth and had never bothered to really learn even a last name.

It irritated him even more to hear that the bag Nowaki had packed, was a gift from the Doctor.

_Why didn't he tell me?_

"Not that it's any of my business."

Hiroki sighed.

He did feel a slight swell of pride when the older man commented on Nowaki's improved English though.

_It should be better; as hard as I've driven him in that subject._

Hiroki peeked out a bit further and felt his hackles rise when Dr. Carter set his hand on Nowaki's shoulder. Hiroki had to admit to himself, even with Takahiro, he had never felt this kind of raging jealousy.

It wasn't as if he was worried that Carter would steal Nowaki away. After their moments together last night and this morning, that he had Nowaki's heart was one thing he was sure of. But Hiroki knew that he didn't just want the younger man's heart…

More than ever he wanted Nowaki in his entirety.

Then as soon as the physician closed the door and stepped around to the driver's side Nowaki looked out the passenger window. Hiroki ducked behind the pillar, his heart pounding madly.

Though Nowaki's expression hadn't changed, he could have sworn he was looking right at him.

_You're being ridiculous, there's no way he saw you… and even if he did it serves you right, acting like some jealous housewife._ Hiroki shook his head but it didn't dislodge any of his troublesome thoughts.

He heard the car start and peeked around again just in time to see the car leave the lot.

Jamming his hands in his pockets, Hiroki began moving back to the apartment, knowing that he needed to put things away before he left for the University. Nowaki was fastidious and Hiroki wanted everything as it should be when the younger man returned home.

Inside his pocket, Hiroki's strong slender fingers traced the house key that Nowaki had given him and he exhaled a frustrated breath.

After all, as he had promised, he'd be waiting.

* * *

><p><strong>Once again, thank you so much for all your comments about the story. There's another few chapters to upload, and then you're going to have to wait a bit for the new stuff to be written. I have the whole thing planned out in my head though, so if I can find the time it should flow pretty quickly. Damn work. Anyone want to become my patron? Heh. <strong>


	32. Chapter 32: Family Reunion

**The Escort**

**Chapter Thirty Two: Family Reunion  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Hiroki arrived at the Kamijou Corps building half an hour early. He had left his school office as quickly as possible when classes were over to escape Miyagi's constant and irksome inquiries about what was troubling his "sweet Ka-mee-jou."<p>

It bothered him that his feelings had been so easily read, but enduring the day with the terrible anticipation of seeing his father had been almost more than Hiroki could handle. Not to mention he was already missing Nowaki terribly.

Stepping into the lobby at Kamijou Corps however, filled Hiroki with dread. Far more even than he'd felt facing Matsuo the previous day.

He waited patiently in line at the reception counter: Kamijou Hiromasa was a stickler for security, so in order to access the building's upper floors where the higher executives worked a pass was required.

"I have an appointment with President Kamijou," Hiroki said after giving a nod to the bright-eyed receptionist.

The woman gave him a broader smile than was needed and flicked her doe eyes over to the computer screen before her. "Name, please, Sir. And I'll check and see if you're on the President's schedule."

Hiroki cleared his throat and was heartened by the crispness of his tone. "Kamijou."

The young woman's eyes gleamed at this information. "Excuse me, Sir, but may I inquire about the nature of your relationship with the President?"

The professor groaned inwardly, knowing that his name would cause issue. It had been so long since he'd been in this building the older desk staff were no longer there and he really had no desire to tell the woman he was the President's son.

He doubted the receptionist would take him seriously if he told her anyway. So, rather than answer, he chose to remain silent.

The woman detected that her inquiry was not appreciated and so pulled on a more serious face, marred only by her slight pout at the handsome young man's apparent lack of manners.

As she stared at her screen however, this disappeared and her face became suddenly more solemn. "Excuse me, Sir, but there's no listed appointment this afternoon under that name."

Hiroki felt his breath hitch and fought to keep his face composed as the receptionist looked on apologetically. His father's personal secretary Adachi had promised him an appointment. His heart pounded.

_Did my father change his mind? Or is this another of his strategies to shame me?_

Drawing a deep breath Hiroki found his voice and nodded politely.

"Ah, please excuse me, but I was assured of this appointment by Adachi Akihito, the President's personal assistant himself. Would you mind calling up and making sure there hasn't been some mistake?"

The young woman's expression shifted from apologetic to apprehensive. Disturbing upper management was not looked on positively but the man standing before her seemed intensely earnest. Finally she nodded and picked up the phone.

"Adachi-san, please forgive the disturbance but… "

Hiroki watched the receptionist's eyes widen. She looked at Hiroki with a new respect after she hung up the phone. "Ah… Kamijou-sama, Adachi-san will be down in just a moment to greet you and escort you up."

Hearing this, Hiroki breathed an inaudible sigh of relief.

He stepped aside from the desk and waited for his father's assistant to appear. Every so often he would find himself nervously toying with the strap on his work bag and have to consciously remind himself to stop. He had just finished his most recent, silent, self-reprimand when he raised his eyes and saw his father's secretary heading towards him.

It had been more than six years since he had last seen Adachi, but even so Hiroki recognized him immediately.

Adachi was tall, his close cropped hair a pale gold, and his eyes a piercing shade of green. The secretary was lean in a way that seemed almost ascetic, his handsome, chiseled face a stoic mask. Despite his cool features, however, Adachi's eyes as he approached were lit with a pleasant warmth and sharp intelligence.

The secretary bowed. "Kamijou-sama, what a pleasant surprise to see you again after so long. You're looking well."

Hiroki nodded back, "Thank you for taking my call yesterday, Adachi-san. Your generosity is much appreciated."

"Ah, it was my pleasure, though I am terribly sorry about the mix up. I have no idea how your appointment was omitted from the schedule."

As Hiroki studied his father's assistant, from the look in Adachi's eyes he could tell that the man was lying. He understood immediately that while his father was seeing him, this omission was meant to convey his displeasure about their meeting.

"Well, Adachi-san, I have never known you to be anything less than completely competent, maybe a glitch in the system? Regardless, no harm done. It was short notice after all."

Adachi smiled and there was a bit of relief in the man's eyes when Hiroki made it clear he was not holding him to blame.

Hiroki had always liked Adachi. The secretary had been one of the few things that had made those summer internships with his father bearable.

He had admired the older man and, while they had never discussed it, Hiroki was under the impression that Adachi perhaps also carried the same "defect of nature," as his father called it, that he did. Although the secretary, as far as Hiroki knew, was single and his behavior had never been anything less than exemplary.

"Shall we go?" Adachi had been about to add "I imagine that the President's anxious to see you" but held back in the end, knowing all too well the truth of the situation.

Hiroki nodded and followed along beside as they made their way down the corridor of the bustling building to the Senior Kamijou's private elevator.

The two men rode in the elevator to the top floor of the building in silence. As they stepped out into the quiet, polished hall, Hiroki cleared his throat. "And how is business, Adachi-san?"

Adachi looked over at the man beside him and offered Hiroki the slightest of smiles: small talk had never been one of the Kamijou males' strengths, father or son.

Sensing the younger man's unease, he sought to alleviate it. "Ah… well that is a matter of opinion, Kamijou-sama. To me things seem to be going very prosperously indeed, but then I lack the President's vision. As you know, he always can see room for improvement."

Hiroki nodded knowing only all too well the man's critical nature. His eyes drifted as they moved down the marbled hallways stopping to rest on the glass cases that punctuated the walkway and lined the walls.

Kamijou Hiromasa had shown an exceptional talent in pottery as a young man. However, he had abandoned the potter's wheel to take his rightful place in the family company when the time came, though he still maintained a small studio on his estate. A place that was off limits entirely to everyone except him.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) Hiromasa was as talented at building business as he was vessels, and he had made the family company ten times more profitable and a hundred times more powerful than it had been previously. He had turned this same sharpness into collecting art as well, since the physical practice of it had become so limited for him.

In doing this, he had turned his private headquarters into a space that would rival many small museums. Within the cases that Hiroki and Adachi passed were exquisite pieces of pottery and statuary. Magnificent scrolls with paintings and calligraphy by national treasures, past and present, hung on the walls. This display was Hiromasa's one extravagance.

Hiroki noted a scroll that he had seen on his last visit to the Tokyo Metropolitan Museum. "I just saw that piece," he murmured almost to himself as they moved further down the hall.

Adachi's sharp ears heard the quiet exclamation and his gaze followed the path of Hiroki's widened eyes.

"Ah, yes. The President loaned that to the Metropolitan for an exhibition recently. He was certainly happy to have it back though."

"Mmmmm," Hiroki hummed thoughtfully. The museum was the one place his father had really ever taken him outside of the office when he was growing up. "It's exceptional. He made a good choice."

"You should tell him that, Kamijou-sama. I am sure it would please him."

Hiroki looked at Adachi skeptically but said nothing.

They reached the edge of the marble hallway and entered another space through a pair of glass doors. In the foyer of this room Adachi offered Hiroki a pair of new slippers, before slipping out of his own work shoes and into a pair of his own. He indicated a place that Hiroki could store his work bag.

Hiroki placed it there somewhat reluctantly, feeling slightly naked without its comforting weight on his shoulder.

He followed Adachi into another office space. This was where Adachi's own assistants were working. There were about a dozen men dressed in sharp suits that made the one Hiroki was currently wearing look rather shabby.

The atmosphere was hushed and productive, just as his father preferred it. Hiroki was unsurprised that there were no women in the office. Kamijou Hiromasa had very definite opinions about what spaces in the world were fit for female occupation.

"Ah, if you'll just wait here, Kamijou-sama, I'll go make sure that the President is ready to receive you."

Hiroki nodded as he felt a dozen pairs of evaluating eyes surreptitiously peer at him. Such scrutiny was one of the reasons he'd always hated working there when he was younger. Still, he kept his face carefully blank not desiring to give these workers anything more to gossip about around the water cooler than what they probably had already.

He moved quietly over to another piece of glass encased calligraphy. He tried to calm his rapidly beating heart by tracing the sensuous curves of the characters with his eyes.

He imagined the artist five hundred years earlier, in the quiet of his studio inspired by the sounds of spring, which was what the poem on the scroll was about. He felt his pulse slow slightly. At least, until the song of early crickets in his imagination was replaced by the soft creak of the heavy wooden doors of his father's private office swinging open.

Adachi's eyes looked as solemn as his face. "The President will see you now."

Hiroki felt his spine stiffen. "Thank you, Adachi-san." He stepped past Adachi and into his father's corporate lair.

"Could I order you something for your meeting? Tea perhaps, Mr. President?" Adachi asked Hiroki's father from behind Hiroki, before moving to shut the door.

"No need," Kamijou senior growled from the comfort of his plush leather chair. "I don't imagine that my _visitor_ will be here long enough to have time for that."

Adachi offered the president of Kamijou Corp a bow, "Very good, Sir," he murmured before closing the doors behind him.

It had been several years since Hiroki had seen his father. The dark eyes that stared at him from behind the vast wood desk were the same color as his own and burned with a similar fierce intensity, though there was something within the man's gaze that was infinitely harder.

Hiroki bowed from where he stood, before making any move to step closer. He straightened when he heard Hiromasa clear his throat. Rising he saw the senior Kamijou nod at him and so he walked over until he was standing directly in front of his father's desk. Here he offered another deep bow.

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. President," Hiroki said solemnly: he had been informed upon being forced out of the family home, that the term "father" was no longer available to him.

The senior Kamijou snorted at this. Hiroki looked up hesitantly and saw there was no humor in the sound.

"Adachi forgets sometimes who actually runs this company when he makes my schedule," Hiromasa gruffed.

Hiroki had to work hard to stifle the shiver that threatened his limbs, understanding that once he left, he had no doubt his father would be sure to find some way to remind his faithful assistant of his proper place in the order of things.

"You need a haircut, you look like a host boy."

Hiromasa sniffed. "And don't tell me you have added smoking to your list of vices… Like that deviant Usami boy you used to spend so much time with."

Hiroki damned Miyagi as he studied the floor in front of his feet. He'd asked his senior politely to refrain from smoking in their office that day but to no avail. He bit back the bitter taste his father's insults and refused to rise to the prodding.

Instead, he offered in a conciliatory tone, "I apologize if I offend you, Mr. President."

"You offended me long before today, Hiroki."

Hiroki felt the heat rush into his cheeks as the brutal injustice of the past burned in a way that he thought he'd long extinguished.

"I don't feel that your assessment of that situation was entirely correct, Sir." His voice was quiet but strong as he said this.

Hiromasa's eyes narrowed as he regarded his banished son. "Oh? Have you found words at last to justify what I came upon in my studio?"

Hiroki's head involuntarily dropped slightly at his father's hateful words and a new heat filled his cheeks. He suddenly felt like a boy of eighteen again and not a man of twenty-four. What could he tell his father? The truth of the situation would not have been any less shameful.

"You're not going to tell me that you're no longer a_ homo_, are you?"

The acid in his father's voice made Hiroki's eyes water, but he willed the swell back.

"Because I think it would be hard for you to contradict such overwhelming evidence. Or am I misunderstanding here as well?" The senior Kamijou reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a folder which he pushed across the polished surface of his desk towards his son.

Hiroki raised his head and looked at the folder. In its journey across the desk, some of the contents had spilled out. His eyes widened as he saw the photos. He reached out a less than steady hand and fanned the contents over the desk.

There, captured in crisp black and white, were images of him entering or leaving certain bars or clubs, some of the pictures were years old and of times Hiroki no longer even had a memory of. In a few of the pictures, obviously more than a bit tipsy, he was shown with his arms around another man's shoulder or waist or vice versa.

His eyes caught on an image of Shinoda kissing him under a street light on an empty sidewalk. Hiroki remembered that moment vividly, unlike many of the others, because he'd been completely sober and he hadn't wanted the other man to kiss him in public. That particular embrace had led to a tremendous fight. One of several not long before they had finally broken up.

There was another picture of him standing with Akihiko the night of the fateful lecture, his mother there in the frame too.

Hiroki was hard pressed not to grimace knowing that his father barely tolerated her calling him and that it was his strict order that the phone was the only way she was to have contact with him.

Even as this realization anguished Hiroki, however, he bypassed this image and picked up another. It was a photo of him and Nowaki, taken about two weeks prior. The two of them were sitting side by side on a park bench, not really doing anything. Hiroki was stunned to see the subtle smile on his face, communicating his feelings just as clearly as Nowaki's broad grin.

"What is this?" Hiroki fought to keep his face composed and his voice even, despite his incredulity. "You have been having someone follow me? Mother too?"

Hiromasa looked at his astonished son and despite his revulsion for the young man's lifestyle, he felt an unexpected pang.

"Hiroki, how do you think I have made this company into what it is?" Without waiting for a response, he answered his own question. "By being watchful.

"Did you think that because I had banished you that you were free? The man shook his dark head."You have just been on a rather long leash from the moment you left our home.

"The reputation of Kamijou core must be maintained. I told you that last day what would happen if you stepped out of line again. And I meant that."

Hiroki's blood ran cold at these words.

Seeing the expression of horror on his son's face, Hiromasa waved a dismissive hand. "And while your conduct has been far from 'normal,' you have managed yourself in that regard at least."

"Beyond this, however, there are other reasons for me to be observant. As diversified as this company is, I negotiate with many types and, unfortunately, not all of my associates are honorable

"You live your sordid life; you reside in a questionable neighborhood. Though I have made it clear I have no desire to see you, I have never formally disowned you. There are those who might think that because of this, you are a point where I might be vulnerable. It all goes back to protecting my interests and the company's."

Hiromasa sighed ruefully, "I admit that I have not been as watchful of the material being sent to me as I should. Given these most recent photos and the information I obtained earlier today, in fact, I think it is time that your lead be reeled in."

Hiroki found his usually agile mind faltering to keep up as it processed all the new information that his father had just disclosed to him. He suddenly felt as though he might be ill. His chest was filled with an excruciating ache.

Perhaps even more painful to him than his father's reaction on the day he discovered him with Haruhiko, was learning that the man had been privy to all the reckless actions he had engaged in to salve himself of his past afflictions, the pain him caused by both Usami brothers.

"I would ask you why you are here today, suddenly so intent on seeing me, after I have made it clear to you that the sight of you is distasteful to me. But I will save us both some time and hazard a guess, having made some inquiries."

The senior Kamijou nodded to the photo still held in his son's white knuckled hand. "You're cavorting with an indebted escort and you're here for money to release him."

In all the scenarios Hiroki had imagined for this meeting, he could have never foreseen things unraveling as they just had. It was the second time in his life he had stood before his father completely without face.

The older man watched Hiroki's internal battle. He was perversely pleased to see how contained Hiroki was. It seemed as though the young man had matured considerably in his time away from the family.

After a minute, Hiroki cleared his throat softly.

"I did come here to ask you for money, but I only wanted to request an advance on the trust that grandfather left me. I will have access to it in six years when I am thirty." He paused and then added. "Seeing this as a straight business transaction, I would not expect such an arrangement without a charge of interest which I would pay: the entire amount in full when the funds are finally released to me."

"Your grandfather would roll over in his grave if he had lived long enough to see what he left that money to… his 'homo' grandson." Hiromasa frowned. "And you seriously thought that I was your best option?

"You have the audacity to come to me, after what I have previously expressed?"

Hiroki hesitated before answering; he kept his voice low and firm. He had nothing left to lose at this point. "I did not think a bank would consider me a good risk, despite my position at the University and I did not wish to call on the family name for favors." He raised his eyes and met his father's dark gaze.

"Nor did I think it prudent to go to a loan shark."

Hiromasa's eyes narrowed. "And what rate of interest did you think would be acceptable. Say twenty percent?"

That was just as much as any loan shark would charge. But since there was little hope in Hiroki that his father would even consider such an option now, he did the math in his head automatically anyway. "Yes."

"I thought I raised you to have a better head for business than that," Hiromasa tsked scornfully. "You realize at that rate, by the time you come into your trust the majority of it will be gone."

"Yes, Mr. President. I do."

Hiromasa reached across his desk and quickly located another picture of Nowaki. This one when he was obviously in the company of a client. "This orphan whore means that much to you?"

Hearing this designation of his lover, sparks suddenly flashed in Hiroki's eyes and the forced humility evaporated from his voice. "I will not hear you speak of him that way."

The senior Kamijou lost his composure for the first time since his son had entered the room. His eyes were wide. "What did you just say to me, Kamijou Hiroki?"

Hiroki did not drop his eyes. "You will not speak of Kusama Nowaki that way. You have no right. You don't know him." He was shocked when his father suddenly began to laugh.

"Such passion and self-sacrifice! This Kusama must be some rare bloom." Hiromasa watched a new shade of red, one of fury rather than shame, fill his son's pale cheeks. Sensing he had just pushed the young man to his limit, he settled back a bit.

"I will not loan you that money, Hiroki, but I will make you a trade."

Hiroki watched his father's eyes darken. He had seen that same expression, in a number of meetings: the predatory glint that came on when he was getting ready to close a deal.

Hiromasa reached into his desk drawer and withdrew another envelope. This time he stood and handed it to Hiroki with both hands. Hiroki took it unaware that he had still not relinquished his grasp on the photo he was holding. He opened the envelope and pulled out a sheaf of papers. It contained the pictures and profiles of half a dozen women.

Sitting back down in his chair with a sigh Hiromasa waved at the envelope.

"You will choose one of these women, they are all suitable, and call me with your choice tomorrow. I will arrange for our families to meet on Sunday. You will marry by the end of the month and move back into the family home.

"At the end of the year, when your contract with the University is done you will come and work for the company as you should. In return I will pay off your… lover's… debt.

Hiroki looked up from the profiles of the ladies at his father.

"My sources told me that this Kusama took his high school equivalency test recently, passed it with an all but perfect score. I am sure that if he has educational aspirations I could find someone to provide him with a full scholarship somewhere."

The amount of information that his father had, sent Hiroki's mind reeling. He stared unable to mask his expression any longer. He gazed at the man with open disbelief.

"Ah… perhaps you are bold enough to tell me you love this Kusama," Hiroki's father said with another sigh. "I have come to understand more of this _other nature_ you have… new scientific data…genes maybe… brain abnormalities, most likely from your mother's side. And since you have only acted out within reasonable parameters since... well, perhaps I can be more accepting of your 'nature' than I have been in the past.

"And if I can make such accommodation to my distaste," the elder Kamijou said magnanimously, "certainly you could as well. Perhaps even enough to do your duty to the family and provide us with an heir. We Japanese are nothing if not adaptable and enduring."

Seeing the look of horror on Hiroki's face at these words, his father's expression softened just slightly.

"If you wish to persist in your _love _for this Kusama, while I don't approve, once you're on the Kamijou Corp salary you can take an apartment in the city. Your wife will surely understand that you have to work long hours and it would be best for your productivity.

"As long as you keep an impeccable outward appearance, you can keep your… this Kusama there. You are old enough to understand this is not an uncommon arrangement. And I suppose this boy of yours, given his history, would be far more agreeable to the idea of sharing than most women."

"This is the only option you will allow?" Hiroki felt hardly enough air in his lungs to utter the question.

"Mmmmmm," Hiromasa nodded leaning forward to push the buzzer to summon Adachi. "I will throw in the bonus that you may call me 'father' again, Hiroki... starting now. Let's see one of your Yakuza loans sharks top that offer.

"Though knowing Kusama's situation…."

Adachi opened the door and seeing the President nod to him, entered the room.

"Adachi, call one of my cars and see that my son gets home safely. He began feeling unwell in the midst of our meeting."

"Yes, Mr. President."

Hiroki turned to Adachi. "No!" he said a bit more loudly than he intended. Seeing Adachi's eyes widen at his tone, Hiroki modified his volume. "No... Thank you. That's very kind, but I can see my own way home, Adachi-san."

Adachi looked at Hiroki's father for direction.

Seeing his son was determined, he decided to humor the younger man. Hiromasa understood it was important at this moment to offer Hiroki a bit of pride, no matter how small.

"Fine," he nodded agreeably. "Adachi, please do see him out though."

Hiroki turned back to look at his father to bow his goodbye. As he was bent over he heard his father say, "you have twenty-four hours to inform me, Hiroki, then who knows who might be inclined to buy Kusama's contract or pay his debt?"

Hiroki looked up into his father's cold dark eyes. Hiromasa said nothing more, but his silence spoke volumes.

"You may thank me for being so generous as to offer you this chance to return to us," Hiromasa added at last.

Hiroki bowed again. "Thank you, _father_," he said softly, his face a blank mask.

He moved, packet in hand, and began walking numbly towards Adachi.

He hesitated for just a moment when his father called out behind him, "And Hiroki, please call your mother soon, she worries about you."

Hiroki turned briefly and bobbed his head in silent affirmation. Then he turned back and followed Adachi out of his father's office.

* * *

><p><strong>And so it starts again... Poor Hiroki... <strong>

**Thank you for reading and please review. Oh, and Iloveanime1919... In the JR series, "Dr, Carter" is who Nowaki goes to meet at the airport, while Hiroki is waiting for him in the rain outside Pandasan.**


	33. Chapter 33: Aaron

**The Escort**

**Chapter Thirty-three: Aaron**

* * *

><p>Despite what Nowaki had told Hiro-san, his day was turning out to be more taxing than he'd anticipated.<p>

It was not that Dr. Carter was that difficult. It was true that the man liked to have things a certain way and could be very crisp and business-like. However, in his dealings with the physician, Nowaki had also found him to be essentially kind-natured.

They had always gotten on amicably. In fact, Nowaki had enjoyed spending time in Dr. Carter's company previously. But with the events and the confessions of the previous day he now found himself having a difficult time being entirely present.

Generally his ability to focus on whoever he was with was something that Nowaki prided himself on. It was also one of the reasons he got so many repeat customers: because if a date wasn't entirely enjoyable he still always tried to give it his full attention.

Now, unable to concentrate on the task at hand, Nowaki was mildly annoyed with himself.

Though he was feeling better, he was still sore, but not so much so that it affected his ability to focus. The problem was, though Hiro-san's comforting touch the night before had helped him immeasurably, even if he had felt fine physically- mentally and emotionally he was still on the raw side.

Nowaki knew well that the unseen abrasions he'd suffered at the hands of his last job were not ones that healed overnight. He accepted that. What was really chafing him was his worry for Hiro-san. He felt distressed to leave his lover and wondered how Hiro-san was going to navigate the next few days.

While Nowaki knew Hiroki was an incredibly strong man, he was sure their last day together had opened places of fester: Hiro-san had suffered so much for so long. Aware of his own sense of skinlessness, Nowaki wondered how his proud professor must be feeling, as he believed Hiroki's wounds ran far deeper than his own.

This knowledge and Nowaki's concern for Hiro-san, flowed like an undertow in the currents of his thoughts, constantly threatening to pull him under or sweep him away if he ventured out too deeply.

"You're quieter than usual, Nowaki," Dr. Carter commented. They had been sitting in silence ever since they'd pulled away from the apartment building.

"Everything okay?"

There was a note of concern in the doctor's voice, as usually the two of them slipped almost immediately into easy conversation whenever they met.

"Ah… So sorry, Dr. Carter. I was up late studying last night, so perhaps I'm a bit tired. I apologize for not being more considerate, knowing that I would be meeting you today."

Nowaki's tone was sincere: Dr. Carter had always been a very generous patron and he wanted to make sure that the man had a good experience. Nowaki drew himself up in an attempt to appear more energetic. He certainly didn't want to be anything less than pleasing.

"Well, you'll have a chance to nap on the plane. Perhaps that will revive you a bit, eh?" Carter offered as he navigated the busy streets. "You have been working a lot too I imagine? When I called to see if you were free, Matsuo-san said you'd become quite popular lately."

Dr. Carter didn't take his focus of the road as he said this, but still Nowaki felt the urge to drop his eyes. Very rarely had they ever discussed what he did for Matsuo's service when they were together.

"Yes, Sir."

Not wanting to be drawn into that particular conversation, Nowaki opted for a diversion. "And how is your own work going? I saw on your website that you had been in Java last month presenting at a conference."

Dr. Carter, despite his relatively young age, was one of the world's leading pediatric bone specialists and a renowned surgeon. These days he traveled extensively; lecturing on various disorders and the cutting edge treatments he was pioneering.

"So you have been following me on my webpage, have you, Nowaki?" Carter flashed Nowaki a grin.

"Ah, well, I am interested in medicine and pediatrics."

"Is that part of your business talk or are you in earnest?"

Blue eyes widened with shock at the directness of Carter's question. Though the man had that common Western lack of tact, he had spent enough time in the East to usually be more subtle.

"No, Sir, I am seriously interested. I'd like to be a doctor someday."

Stopped at a traffic light Carter looked at Nowaki, studying him closely.

"And how do you expect to get there from here, Nowaki?" His voice was not chiding, but it was serious. "Becoming a doctor takes a lot of years and a hell of a lot of hard work."

Normally Nowaki would have accepted Carter's words with little more than a quiet affirmation of the doctor's correctness and a nod, but today he found himself slipping.

"I'll get there somehow!" he asserted with conviction, "I'm not afraid of working hard!"

Surprised by the heat in his own voice, Nowaki dropped his gaze. He looked up a few moments later planning to apologize. Only to see a peculiar expression on the silent doctor's face. Before Nowaki could make his amends, however, Carter spoke. His voice was kind.

"That's right. You have always been industrious. How many jobs were you working just before I met you?"

Nowaki was confused by the calm tone in the face of his outburst. He struggled to shift gears, knowing that his emotions were getting away from him today.

"Six," he answered much more mildly.

"Ummmm." Carter turned his eyes back to the road as the traffic began to move. After a minute of uncomfortable silence the physician spoke again. "So, if you were looking at my site, I suppose you saw that I have accepted a teaching position in the States."

"Yes, Sir," Nowaki murmured. "University of Washington in Seattle," he articulated these words carefully.

Whether it was because Nowaki knew this fact about him or again because the doctor was appreciating his companion's improved pronunciation, a pleased smile curled the corners of Dr. Carter's mouth.

"Yes, that's exactly right. They're seventh in the U. S. for their pediatrics program. Normally I wouldn't bother with anything less than the nation's top five, but I love the northwest and I'm a bit tired of traveling. Besides, they're letting me write my own ticket."

"Excuse me?" The figure of speech was lost on Nowaki.

Dr. Carter laughed pleasantly at the look of mild confusion on the younger man's handsome face. "They're basically offering me whatever I want in exchange for my joining their faculty."

"Congratulations then." Nowaki made a mental note to remember the phrase.

"Ummmm, but then that means I won't be traveling as much. So, I am not sure when I'll get see you again."

Nowaki picked up a twinge of regret in the older man's voice. It never failed to amaze him how open foreign men could be.

He considered the doctor's words silently. He had been seeing Dr. Carter every few months over the last two years and had traveled with him several times now. While he really had no desire to continue in his present line of work, Nowaki respected Carter as a man and realized he would miss their visits.

He struggled to determine how he felt about this, as despite the sexual nature of their relationship, Nowaki suddenly realized that the doctor had functioned as a sort of a father figure for him.

"Ah, Nowaki, Matsuo told me you had your last tests about a week and a half ago… Is that right?"

Carter's words broke into Nowaki's thoughts. He blinked as the significance of the question sunk in.

"Yes, Sir."

"Any unprotected sex since then?"

Nowaki felt his cheeks heat for the second time that morning. He tried not to frown as a memory of his "triple date" flashed in his mind. "Yes, Sir. Two days ago."

Nowaki saw Carter's eyes flash over at him for the merest of moments.

"Not that we'll be able to tell this early with some things, but I think we should stop past the clinic. I already called ahead anyway," Carter said simply in response to this disclosure.

Nowaki wasn't surprised at this.

The doctor almost always had him tested, if there was time, before they "did" anything, regardless of when his last tests had been. He knew Carter would take him to a children's clinic he'd done some work with previously.

The staff, even if they didn't approve of this practice, always did their best to accommodate the doctor.

Nowaki recalled how out of place he'd felt the first time they'd done this. He was not at all uneasy around children, in fact he loved them. Being there amongst the parents and their children, however briefly though, before being ushered back into one of the exam rooms in the capacity of a patient, had made him uncomfortable.

He remembered expressing his surprise that the lab at the clinic would have the ability to test for the kinds of diseases that Carter was checking him for.

A knot tied in his stomach even now as he remembered Dr. Carter's expression when he'd said this. Nowaki had felt foolish in that moment. He, more than anyone, should have known that children often paid for the sins of adults in terrible ways.

"Our plane doesn't leave until early afternoon anyway. So I thought we could go get some breakfast and then I'd take you shopping while we waited for the results. Sound good?"

Though Dr. Carter buying him things had always embarrassed Nowaki, in the past he had experienced some enjoyment in how much pleasure this act seemed to give his client. Today, however, the thought of spending the morning engaged in such activity was the last thing Nowaki desired to do. He realized that all he really wanted was to be curled up someplace with Hiro-san.

Despite this, he pulled out a smile he hoped looked sincere. "Yes, Sir."

"Since this is my last trip to Japan for a while we should celebrate big with this trip, I think." Carter grinned widely back.

"And how about we do away with that "Sir" stuff, Nowaki. In fact let's forgo the Dr. Carter talk too. I would really like it if you'd just call me Aaron.

"Come on try it out," Dr. Carter urged gently as they pulled into the parking garage for the clinic.

Nowaki was surprised by the earnestness in the man's tone and confused by this increase in intimacy on the verge of his leaving.

"Yes, Aaron." Nowaki carefully enunciated the name; it felt strange on his tongue.

"Perfect!" Carter said happily turning off the car after pulling into a slot reserved for the clinic's physicians. "Whoever has been instructing you is an excellent teacher." The doctor offered this absently, as he undid his seatbelt.

"He is," Nowaki said softly, though Carter didn't hear him, he was halfway out of the vehicle already.

As soon as Nowaki had extricated himself from the car and joined the older man, he felt a warm hand set on his shoulder. "I have a good feeling about this weekend, Nowaki. I think we're going to have a marvelous time!"

"I'm sure we will, Si… Aaron-san." It pained Nowaki to see his client so happy when he himself was so unenthusiastic. He was unused to this kind of incongruence.

Carter chuckled at Nowaki's addition of the honorific to his name but didn't say anything about it. He simply began propelling them both to the elevator that would take them up into the clinic. "Let's get this party started then, shall we?"

* * *

><p>The rest of the morning passed rather pleasantly.<p>

After the test, Nowaki and Dr. Carter had breakfast at a small café the older man knew of (though Nowaki still didn't eat much). Then they went shopping. "Aaron" fitted Nowaki with all he would need for the weekend and then some, including a new piece of luggage to carry everything in, despite Nowaki's gentle protests about the extravagance.

They were on their way to the airport when the clinic called giving Nowaki a clean bill of health, for the moment anyway. Despite the fact things had been going well, both men visibly relaxed a bit more at this news.

The plane ride was uneventful and Nowaki managed to put his anxiety aside and at Carter's urging, did actually somehow sleep for most of the flight. True to the doctor's earlier speculation the nap refreshed him quite a bit.

Dr. Carter had made arrangements for them to stay at a hot springs inn in Sapporo. On the long drive from the airport, Nowaki felt some of the band that had been constricting his chest loosen. Though he missed Hiro-san terribly and his beloved was never far from his thoughts, it felt good to be out of Tokyo… Well away from Matsuo and the weight of his debt.

After they settled at the inn, the two men went out for a brief walk through the surrounding neighborhood. Dr. Carter planned for them to eat out on Saturday and Sunday night, but he wanted to stay in that first evening.

When they'd traveled together previously, Nowaki had often taken responsibility for preparing their meals and the older man relished his suite had a small kitchen so they had stopped at a local market and Nowaki picked up the ingredients for dinner and breakfast the next morning.

Once they returned from their excursion, they took advantage of the outdoor hot spring pool in the small enclosed yard attached to their suite. Dr. Carter made no move to approach Nowaki in the pool, nor did he offer Nowaki any invitation to approach him.

Nowaki had learned early on in his time with Carter that while the doctor preferred to bottom, he also preferred to be the one to initiate any sexual activity. Given this, he could just sit back and relax until Carter made an advance. So they spent their soak mostly silent, occasionally breaking this with soft patches of random conversation.

The time in the hot water did wonders for Nowaki's still-aching muscles and seemed to steam away his stiffness. He was feeling much restored when he finally, reluctantly pulled himself out of the pool to go make dinner. He stopped, halfway out of the pool when Dr. Carter called after him.

"Nowaki, what happened to your shoulder?"

"Eh?" Nowaki turned his head and he could see, with some difficulty the small patch where the blisters from the hot ash of his cigar smoking trick had scabbed already.

"And your hip?" Carter asked, indicating his raw spot.

Nowaki stepped the rest of the way out of the bath. He wrapped a towel around his waist, covering his hip and pulled on the new yukata Carter had purchased for him.

"Just a bit accident prone lately, I guess," Nowaki said mildly offering a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I apologize for being marred. I hope this doesn't make me unacceptable to you, Aaron-san."

The doctor frowned at Nowaki's words.

"No, not at all, Nowaki. I think you look as enticing as always."

After bowing his head slightly at the doctor's generosity Nowaki, looked up and was surprised to see an expression of concern on Carter's face.

"I think I'll go start dinner if that's alright?"

"Mmmmm," Dr. Cater looked at Nowaki thoughtfully. "That sounds great. I'll get out in a few minutes myself and then I need to jump on the computer to check some e-mail. Just call me when it's ready."

Nowaki nodded and then turned went into the house.

Carter's keen eyes followed him. He continued to stare at the open spot in the suite's sliding screen doors long after Nowaki had disappeared through it.

* * *

><p>Dinner was a great success. The meal came off beautifully and the sake that the physician consumed put the man in high spirits. After the meal, Carter slipped around the low table and Nowaki found himself being served as dessert.<p>

For the first time in the escort's life he had a flash of concern at the outset that he might not be able to perform. He closed his eyes as the doctor pushed him down on the tatami's and he felt large hands push open the folds of his yukata.

Fortunately, as Carter's skilled mouth found him, Nowaki felt himself rousing.

He imagined the mouth on him belonged to his Hiro-san and immediately felt the blood rush to fill him until he was taut and aching. This was something he had never done before, as it had previously seemed to him a sort of betrayal to bring his beloved into something so sordid.

After Carter had attended to him, it was Nowaki's turn to minister to the physician.

This was how Nowaki found himself, sometime later, on his knees between the man's spread thighs. Carter was lying on his back, his long legs draped off the edge of the raised, thick double futon. Nowaki was still in his yukata, but the top had been pushed off his shoulders, leaving his torso bare. The garment was held in place only by the belt still tied around his trim waist.

His mouth was expertly working the doctor's thickly weeping member. Because of the tremendous climax it produced Aaron-san had requested that Nowaki perform the extended start and stop technique that he'd perfected. Between his hand and his mouth Nowaki had brought the man almost to the point of no return five times already.

Originally he'd been glad for Carter's choice, as after laying on the tatamis, his hips had started to ache again and he'd been slightly worried that this lingering pain might affect his ability to fuck as well as he did normally. Now though, as long as they had been at this, he was tiring.

Nowaki tried not to grimace around Carter's thick cock as the man generally loved to watch himself being worked.

Looking up now though, Nowaki saw that thankfully the reclining man's eyes were now closed, the physician obviously lost in his building ecstasy. Grateful for this Nowaki slipped off and began to lick down Carter's shaft as he pumped with his hand. His jaws ached tremendously, still recovering from the abuse of his mouth during his last "assignment."

"Ah, I'm so close, Nowaki," Carter's deep moan called from above him.

"Put your mouth on me again, I want to come this time," he ordered with a gentle growl. Nowaki complied with his client's request. He slipped his mouth back onto Carter and opened his throat, taking in the doctor's full length.

"Fuck, that's perfect."

Nowaki could tell from the husk in the man's voice and the pulse of the Carter's sac where his displaced hand had relocated, that he was close.

He stilled but kept his mouth on Carter's cock as Carter shifted and sat upright. When he felt long fingers run through his hair Nowaki obediently moved his large hands, and set them on the older man's thighs.

He remained perfectly still as Carter's hands held him in place and the man began to fuck his mouth.

Though the doctor's motions were far from brutal, Nowaki felt a flash of panic as images of Matsuo and the three men from his last trick filled his mind.

His heart began pounding as a burst of adrenaline coursed through him. He struggled to keep calm and focused on breathing through his nose as his client's motions increased.

Once again, Nowaki called on Hiro-san to help him get through this, but the image of his beloved was elusive this time as he tried to imagine Hiro-san in Carter's place.

There were just too many things wrong in this instance, the smell and taste of the American was so different than his lover's piquant and comforting flavor.

Not to mention, Hiro-san rarely took him in this way and the few times he had, he'd rested his hands on his head so gently. Though Nowaki understood now why Hiro-san had done this, and why his lover was so sensitive about having his own head touched in certain ways.

Finally, Carter's cock jumped and Nowaki felt the man release. His mouth already filled with saliva, he tried not to choke on the copious amounts of fluid thickly spurting down his throat. He waited until well after the man's dick had ceased its spasms and he felt Carter's strong fingers unlock their grip in his hair before he slid back from around the man's still rigid dick.

Carter slipped out of his mouth at this motion and suddenly Nowaki felt gentler hands on him. One hand cupped his tired, drooling jaw and lifted his chin; the other pushed back his thick bangs. Nowaki was surprised to feel warm lips pressed in a kiss against his damp forehead.

He looked up and saw Carter beaming down on him. "That was amazing, Nowaki. Thank you for that."

Nowaki dropped his eyes since his chin remained caught in the doctor's hand, he nodded as much as was allowed, still too breathless to speak properly at the moment. He felt a thick thumb brush gently across his saliva-slicked bottom lip.

"Do you want to go clean up?"

"Yes, please. Thank you Aaron-san," Nowaki murmured.

As soon as he felt the tender restraint of the man's hand release him, Nowaki pushed up from his knees into a standing position. He pulled his disheveled yukata back up onto his shoulders, gave the doctor a more proper nod, and then headed off into the bathroom.

In the suite's bathroom Nowaki pulled out the smaller bag he'd brought with him from the storage closet. He took out his toiletries bag and grabbed his toothbrush and paste and a small bottle of mouth wash. After his face was cleaned, teeth brushed, throat gargled, and a quick sponge down of other parts had been completed, Nowaki went to return his things to the bag.

As he did this he hesitated a minute then he unzipped the pocket and pulled out his phone. He and Matsuo both had strict "no phone" policies during an assignment. Nowaki couldn't help himself though. He flipped his phone open and hit Hiroki's number.

He was surprised when Hiro-san picked up on the first ring.

"Kamijou here."

"Hiro-san," Nowaki breathed. His heart felt like bursting just at the sound of the deep growl.

"Nowaki, are you okay?"

"Ah, I'm fine, Hiro-san," Nowaki offered in a quiet voice.

"Then why are you calling? I didn't think you were allowed to use your phone when you were on business."

"I'm not supposed to be using it, Hiro-san, but I missed you."

"I don't want you getting in trouble, you big sap. You better hang up," Hiroki grumbled.

"Please, Hiro-san, I know… But… Just talk to me for another minute."

Both men were stunned to hear the naked plea in Nowaki's voice.

"Are you sure you're okay, Nowaki?" Hiroki sounded concerned now and Nowaki noticed that tonight his lover's voice sounded slightly rougher than usual.

"Ummmmm." Nowaki hummed, not trusting his own voice at the moment.

There was silence between them then, but it was enough for each simply to know that his lover was on the other end of the line. Then Hiroki spoke.

"Nowaki, you and I are reasonably bright men don't you think?"

"Huh?" Nowaki was confused by this sudden and seemingly random question.

"I mean… why is it, do you suppose, that people who are smart still do stupid things?"

Nowaki suddenly recognized the thickness in the older man's voice.

"Hiro-san, have you been drinking?"

After a pause, Hiroki cleared his throat.

"Maybe."

Nowaki was stunned. As far as he knew, until his meeting with Miyagi the night before, Hiro-san hadn't had as much as a beer since the night of their first "escort."

"Don't worry, Nowaki… I am at home though, so I can't get into too much trouble." Now that Nowaki knew, Hiroki no longer tried to hide his slur and the true level of his inebriation was clearly evident in his voice.

"Well, any more than I already am…"

"Hiro-san, what's going on?" Now Nowaki was worried.

"Ah… I did something stupid today… It was a shit day and my meeting didn't go as I'd planned.

"Oh, and I miss you… a lot…. I wish you were here," Hiroki added as an afterthought, in a moment of alcoholic honesty.

This disclosure warmed Nowaki's heart but his concern about his partner had just quadrupled. "Are you in trouble at the University? With the Dean or Miyagi-san?"

"Something like that," Hiroki drawled after a long pause.

"Hiro-san, I am sure whatever mistake you made you'll figure out a way to fix it."

He thought about his own situation.

"One thing I am confident of is that when a smart person does something unwise, he can use his mind to come up with the best solution." Turning his attention back to Hiro-san he added, "I'm sure you will find an intelligent way to resolve the problem, whatever it is."

Hiroki was quiet after these words, but even so, Nowaki could hear his lover thinking.

"I better go Hiro-san, but it makes me so happy you miss me. And…" Nowaki hesitated a second. "Please, don't drink anymore tonight, Hiro-san. It won't help your thinking."

"Ummmm," Hiroki hummed noncommittally on the other line.

Still, Nowaki was pleased as this showed Hiro-san was at least considering his request.

"Ah… well, I was going to bed anyway," Hiroki finally answered at last. "I'm tired as hell.

"Some brat kept me up way too late last night with some goofy request for cuddling."

Nowaki smiled this growled acquiescence.

"Uh, before I go… I did something else foolish today…"

"Oh?"

"Yes, look in the bottom of your bag. But if you say a word about it when you get back, I swear I'll thrash you." Hiroki's voice was tempered as he said this despite his threat and Nowaki could imagine him blushing.

Nowaki looked at his bag. He reached into it and pulled out his textbooks. His heart stopped when he saw what Hiroki had stuck inside.

"Hiro-san…" Nowaki faltered.

"Nowaki?" Carter's voice called from the other room.

Hiroki heard the other man's voice, on the line. "Look you better go." he suddenly sounded sober.

"Thank you so much, Hiro-san. I love you." Nowaki said in a voice that was choked with emotion.

"Ummmmm, me too," Hiroki mumbled and hung up.

Nowaki closed his phone. He knew he should have responded to Dr. Carter immediately, but he didn't.

Instead he reached into the bottom of his bag and pulled out a small cinnamon-colored stuffed cat. His heart clenched seeing the little plushie wink at him with its one dark brown eye. The balding kitten was missing the opposite eye as his Kaze.

As he reluctantly set the toy back into his bag, his fingers brushed a piece of folded paper. Nowaki opened it carefully and read the note Hiroki had written for him that morning.

_Nowaki,_

_So this is stupid and I can't believe I am doing something so sappy, but here it goes… I will keep Kaze with me while you are away, if you will keep Alien. That way, we will each carry a symbol of the other with us, until they and we, can come back together. As long as you take Alien with you when distance separates us, I will take it as a promise that you will return to me. I offer this same pledge back to you._

_Hiroki_

Nowaki folded the note reverently and returned it back into the bag. He tucked it between Alien's fuzzy paws.

"Nowaki?" Carter's voice called again from the other room, this time a bit more loudly.

Quickly Nowaki replaced the contents of his bag. He reached over and flushed the toilet, ran some washcloths under the hot tap and grabbed a clean towel. He took the cloths and the towel with him back to where Dr. Carter was waiting for him, reclining on the bed.

"Sorry, Aaron-san. I didn't mean to keep you waiting," Nowaki offered apologetically.

Having heard the toilet flush and imagining that was what had kept the younger man away, Carter just nodded.

"Bed was getting cold," He grumbled, but there was only a warm affection in his growled tones.

Nowaki offered the appropriate smile before he joined him on the futon and cleaned Carter's body with the heated cloths he'd brought with him. After drying the man and making sure he was comfortable, Nowaki stripped out of his Yukata and lay down next to him.

The doctor's eyes tracked him carefully throughout this whole process.

Once Nowaki lay down, he allowed the doctor to roll him on his side. Carter pressed against him from behind and wrapped his arms around him. Pulling Nowaki tight to him, Carter placed a tender kiss on his shoulder near his burns.

Carter sighed.

"This is nice; I think I've rather missed you, Nowaki."

"Ummmmm," Nowaki offered in reply, at a loss for what to say to this declaration.

But that seemed to be enough to satisfy, as Carter gave a contented grunt and soon his breath was heavy with sleep.

For Nowaki, however, sleep that night did not come anywhere near as easily.

* * *

><p><strong>Ah, the angst. Just so you know, this was not an easy chapter to write. On another note, insomnia is a bastard. It's almost 2:30 am here and I have a class to teach in five and a half hours.<strong>

**Thank you for reading and please review.**


	34. Chapter 34: Doing Business

**The Escort Chapter**

**Thirty-Four: Doing Business  
><strong>

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><p>"Thank you again for seeing me on Sunday, Isoda-san. I hope it was not an inconvenience."<p>

The rare book dealer looked back at Hiroki. He studied the young man carefully before nodding. "Ah, it was no inconvenience, Kamijou-sama. It's always a pleasure to see you." Then once again he turned his attention to the scroll hanging in his study area.

He moved over the surface of the parchment with his magnifying loop once more. There was no doubt in his mind the piece was authentic. He'd expected nothing less from one of his best customers and a true aficionado, but fifty years in the rare text trade had taught him to always be careful.

Hiroki watched with a heavy heart as the man lifted the scroll from the pin it had been hanging on.

He stoically observed the dealer's cotton-gloved hands reverently roll it back up. Isoda took careful pains to tie the cording correctly before he re-wrapped the work in a rice paper sheath and set it back in to the custom, wood-box that had been fabricated specifically for the piece on its completion four-hundred years prior.

"Are you sure you wish to sell this, Kamijou-sama?" Isoda had been selling rare books and scrolls to Hiroki before the professor was even out of junior high, but he had never been approached by him to purchase something before.

"Are you not interested in it, Isoda-san?" A slight quirk of the brow was the only indication that Hiroki was made uneasy by the question.

"Oh no, it's not that at all. I know a number of people who might desire such an article… It's just that it's such a rare piece… A treasure.

"I was wondering why you would relinquish it?" Isoda knew he was pushing things by asking such an indelicate question, but the answer would help him know where to start his bid.

Hiroki looked at the box holding the scroll. It was a piece he had been given by his maternal grandfather. The man had bestowed it on him with great ceremony for his thirteenth birthday. Even at that young age Hiroki understood the magnitude of the gift the older man had presented him with. He considered carefully how to answer.

"There is a more valuable treasure I wish to secure. Releasing this will enable me to do so."

Isoda nodded, not quite sure whether or not to believe his young patron. The antiquarian book trade in Tokyo, of the caliber he operated at, was a relatively small world. Isoda had heard from a few other dealers that Kamijou-sama had contacted them two days ago about selling other pieces. He knew three dealers who had gone to the man's apartment the previous day, in fact, to look at what the young scholar was offering.

He had been a bit put off at the time by this seeming exclusion, but then Kamijou-sama had called him personally and told him he'd like to bring this particular piece in.

The aged dealer had been very pleased, understanding immediately that the young man was offering him the crown jewel of his collection and was doing him the honor of bringing it to him, knowing that with his arthritis he did not get around easily these days.

For this reason when he scribbled down his offer on a piece of paper, it was higher than what he might have otherwise been inclined to give.

Isoda frowned even as he did it, knowing that if his wife found out later, he would be chastised for going soft in his old age. Still, he liked the young man greatly. So many of the professor's generation had no respect for the value of such wonders, the amazing beauty of such carefully crafted objects as the books and scrolls he carried, not to mention the riches they contained in their words.

Passing the folded paper respectfully, Isoda tried not to appear too interested.

Hiroki looked down at the figure after opening it. He had an idea of what the piece was worth, though he hated thinking about his texts in such a material manner. The price written on the slip was lower than he had hoped for, but not so low as to be offensive.

He pondered the parchment a moment before pulling a pen from his pocket and writing down a new figure. He passed this back to Isoda with a grim look on his face.

The book seller took the folded paper and opened it. He noted the increased figure: of course Kamijou-sama knew the value.

Hiroki cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, Isoda-san, I don't mean to seem impolite but I don't wish to bargain any more than this. That is my price. It may be higher than you wish to go, but it's fair considering what I know you will be able to get for it. If that sum is not acceptable I will take the piece elsewhere."

Hiroki waited on pins and needles, hoping that his ruse in declaring he would find another buyer was enough to push Isoda into accepting his price. He made sure, however, that his face betrayed none of this.

If the dealer accepted his figure, he would have enough and a little extra, after what he'd already sold yesterday and when he cashed out his savings account on Monday, to make Matsuo's demanded quarter and keep Nowaki safe from being bought by someone else for at least two weeks.

Looking down at the paper, the dealer sighed. He could hear the firmness in the younger man's tone and while higher than he would have liked to have paid, the amount was still reasonable.

Perhaps he was getting too mild in his old age. Also, however, Isoda was unconvinced of the professor's "new treasure" explanation. He had the distinct sense Kamijou-sama was in some kind of trouble and the young man had been such a valuable client, as had been his grandfather before him. Not to mention the wonderful times they'd passed discussing literature when he'd come in.

No, Isoda decided he wanted to help the scholar out of whatever it was he'd gotten himself into.

"Ah, I appreciate your directness, at my age when time is short, why spend it haggling? Perhaps you would be better suited for business than teaching, Kamijou-sama. My wife will skin me alive, but I will accept your offer." Isoda's voice was heavy with false remorse as he said this, knowing full well the deal was fair to both of them.

Hiroki fought to keep from exhaling a sigh of relief. He nodded silently, ignoring the irony of the man's comment considering his recent meeting with his father. Watching the old merchant take his scroll and go and lock it in a climate controlled safe located at the rear of his shop, Hiroki's one solace was that Isoda would treat the piece as it should be and that he would ensure it went to someone who would understand its value and care for it properly.

"If you'll just wait here, I'll go make out the check for you, Kamijou-sama. While you're waiting you might want to peruse some of those books near the front window, they just came in yesterday. There are a few titles there I think you might find interesting.

Hiroki watched Isaoda depart into the back room.

Following the advice he moved to the front of the store. On his way, he reached into his work bag searching for his phone. He had found himself checking it every fifteen minutes or so ever since Nowaki's call on Friday night.

Nowaki had called him again Saturday evening and though the younger man sounded far better than he had earlier, there was still an edge of rawness in his lover's voice that made him extremely anxious.

As he was fumbling around for his cell, Hiroki's eyes fell on the envelope his father had given him with his prospective brides.

Seeing this, he left off his search for his phone. He closed the flap, blocking the packet from sight and wished that forgetting about what it contained could be as easy.

With a sigh he raised his eyes to the shelves now in front of him. His dark eyes scanned the titles, but he didn't really comprehend them. His mind was too busy racing ahead to what the rest of his afternoon held in store.

"Excuse me Kamijou-sama."

Hiroki looked up from the shelf he'd been staring at. The dealer met him with a warm smile and bow as he offered Hiroki an envelope with the price of his scroll in it. "Thank you so much as always for your business. I am honored you entrusted me with such a wonderful work."

Hiroki nodded and felt a blush creeping into his cheeks as he took the check from Isoda. He was not comfortable with business and the transaction he'd just completed left him feeling sullied.

"Could I entice you to share one more cup of tea with me?" The ancient bookseller asked, motioning to the table where he and Hiroki had shared a cup earlier as a pre-emptive ritual to their discussion of the scroll.

"Ah, that's very kind of you, Isoda-san. Unfortunately I have another meeting this afternoon I need to get to."

"Oh?" The bookseller's brow rose in curiosity, but he was too polite to inquire if it was more business.

Hiroki read the man's expression, however, and though he was under no obligation he offered, "I am going to visit my parents." Although given the circumstances he could have just as easily said he was conducting another business meeting.

"Well, then, if it seems appropriate, please give my regards to the President. But now, I better not keep you. It was a delight doing business with you, Kamijou-sama. I hope to see you again soon."

Hiroki hardly heard the man as he was again drifting, thoughts of Nowaki and his impending meeting clouded his mind. He shook his head slightly and returned Isoda's parting bow, before turning to leave the store, lighter without the valuable scroll's weight in his work bag, but feeling heavier nonetheless.

* * *

><p>Hiroki spent the train ride to his parent's home sifting through the proposal packet pictures once more.<p>

He had known from the beginning that inquiring about an advance on his inheritance had been a long shot but the way the meeting had gone so awry overwhelmed him.

He had originally planned on telling his father the advance on his trust was to purchase a new apartment in a better part of the city, so that his mother wouldn't worry so much. Or that he'd wanted to acquire a piece of artwork or some ancient text. Finding out then, that the president had been keeping tabs on him… That his father was aware of so much of his life, when they hadn't even spoken more than a few words to each other in years, not to mention that he knew about Nowaki, had been shattering. The subsequent proposal, however, had been no less devastating.

Following his meeting, Hiroki had stopped at the store on the way home for a couple of six-packs of cheap beer to fortify himself. Once back at his apartment, he'd sat down to study the "materials" his father had given him and had begun drinking.

There amongst the pictures was a letter, with the details spelled out in black and white, the entire parameters of the arrangement.

He was to marry within the month, leave teaching within the year. In exchange, Nowaki's contract, and his loan, would be paid in full, his education as well, as long as he kept a certain GPA. There was a note, with Hiroki's company salary and the figures for his housing allowance to secure a Tokyo apartment, for "business" purposes. There was also promise of a sizable bonus if a grandson was produced within the first eighteen months of his nuptials.

The breakdown of his life into these monetary terms left Hiroki feeling ill.

He'd held no intention of accepting his father's offer. He had even greater distaste about his father "buying" Nowaki than he'd had about "borrowing" in the first place: securing a loan from Kamijou Hiromasa would have been debt enough, but if his father did this, Hiroki knew he'd never be his own man again.

Hiroki hadn't been able to see himself accepting such conditions, but even more so, knowing Nowaki as he did, he didn't believe the younger man would accept it either and there was no way that he could keep such an arrangement a secret. Hiroki had imagined too, that no matter how much Nowaki articulated his love for him, that the younger man would leave him, rather than either of them bear that kind of "freedom."

Nowaki's own pride, regardless of his circumstances, was not inconsiderable, after all.

After he'd finished with his first six-pack and was halfway through the second, Hiroki had felt bolstered in his resolution. He had been determined to phone his father and tell him he was refusing the offer…

And then Nowaki had called.

Coming out of this memory and back into the moment, out of the envelope, Hiroki pulled one last picture. It was the image of him and Nowaki sitting on the park bench. The one he'd held in his hand in his father's office.

It wasn't until he'd left the Kamijou Corp building that he'd realized he'd still been carrying it with him.

Looking at Nowaki's sweet face and remembering how the younger man had sounded that Friday night, Hiroki sighed. After their exchange he'd determined that he would do anything to set Nowaki free. Even if that meant inevitably he would lose him.

Following their conversation, per his word to Nowaki, Hiroki had put his drunken body to bed. When he'd woken up the next morning, sober and more than a bit hung over, the first thing he'd done was called his father and given him a name from the packet. After hanging up the phone he'd spent the next hour hunched over the toilet vomiting.

Whether it was from the alcohol or the phone call, he never determined.

After carefully sliding Nowaki's image back into the folder, Hiroki put the rest of the information into the packet as well, with the exception of one photo.

Keen eyes scanned the picture, looking again for clues as to how this afternoon would unfold. The dark eyes that looked back at him were less demure than the other womens' and held a bright spark of intelligence that challenged her beholder.

Kimiyama Shiori was twenty one, working on a degree in law at "T" University. The irony of this was not lost on Hiroki, given his previous attachment to another certain "T" University law student. However, this aside, if the match was made, Hiroki intended for her to continue with her studies which, given the rigors of that degree, would give them a few years where they would most likely hardly see each other.

And, it was also his hope that Kimiyama-san's inclination to law was the choice of a logical mind.

Not knowing more of her situation, if she seemed reasonable, Hiroki prayed there might be a chance he could explain aspects of his own, and that perhaps they could arrive at some agreement that would be, if not congenial, at least bearable for both of them.

Hiroki's eyes scanned her image again. The young woman in the photo had pale skin and hair cut it a shorter style that bordered slightly on rebellious, despite the makeup artist's best attempts to tame it. Her oval face and fine features were rather lovely. Kimiyama's body, what was visible, was lithe, swelling with just the right amounts of softness at all the appropriate places.

Looking at the photo, many men would have found her attractive, Hiroki supposed. All he felt, however, was a sudden new twist of sickness.

Hiroki raised his eyes as the train pulled into the station nearest his parent's district. He slipped the picture into the envelope along with the rest and stuck this back into his bag as the train slowed, nearing his stop.

As soon as doors opened he gathered his things, and himself, and stepped out onto the open platform. Once out in the air again, he drew a deep breath. Reaching into his bag, Hiroki withdrew his phone, turned it back on and noted, per his usual habit, that he was almost an hour early. He also saw that there were no new calls or messages from Nowaki. He was unsure whether or not he should take this as a good sign.

Looking up from his cell, Hiroki was surprised to see Umari waiting for him at the end of the platform.

The man had served as gardener for the Kamijou estate since Hiroki was a child and also functioned as a driver for the lady Kamijou. Umari's wife worked for Hiroki's mother in the house, not that the lady Kamijou really needed assistance in running her household, but as much as her husband traveled, the housekeeper was good company.

Hiroki nodded at Umari and the man smiled and bowed. Just as Hiroki started heading towards him his phone rang. Looking at the screen Hiroki saw it was Akihiko. He flipped open his phone.

"Kamijou, here."

"Ah, Hiroki I'm glad I reached you."

"I said I would call you next week, Akihiko," Hiroki didn't really want to talk to Akihiko but seeing Umari had slapped him with the reality of his situation: in a short time he'd be in the family home with both his parents. So for the moment, his old friend was providing an appreciated diversion.

"Yes, I know and I really do want to have that conversation with you, Hiroki, but for now my call is of a more professional nature."

Hiroki rolled his eyes knowing the direction this conversation would likely take. "Ummmm."

"Well, do remember how Aikawa-san was talking about those "male love novels" weeks ago, the night we had that dinner?"

In truth Hiroki still had little recollection of that evening, but he had no intention of letting Akihiko know that. "Yes."

"Well I thought I'd try my hand at it. You know as a sideline… Something to do for a break when I tire of my other work. I'd like for you to read it before I submit it to her. I know it's short notice, but can we meet for coffee or something."

"You may find this surprising Akihiko, but while I would actually love nothing more than to play editor for your new endeavor today, I can't. I'm on my way home."

"Home?" Akihiko paused. "Well then, does that mean you're at the University? Tell me where you are and I'll come get you."

Hiroki shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I meant, I am going home to see my parents," His admission managed to sound annoyed and apprehensive simultaneously.

The silence on the other end of the line at this disclosure was louder than any exclamation Akihiko could have made.

"Is that wise, Hiroki?" Akihiko asked after a long and deafening silence. "What about your father?"

"We're reconciling," Hiroki stated simply offering no further explanation.

"Seems like your life is shaping up in all kinds of interesting ways. Kusama-san must be some kind of good luck charm for you." Akihiko offered this humorously but there was a note of strain to his voice.

Given all he and Nowaki had been through in the last few days, Hiroki couldn't help but snort at how off Akihiko was in his assessment. Hiroki looked over and saw Umari still waiting patiently for him.

"Look, Akihiko, I have to go. Come by my office Monday afternoon and just leave the manuscript with me."

Akihiko was silent again for a moment. "Alright," he said at last, and then with a note of wistfulness in his voice, he offered, "Best of luck with your visit, Old Man. I hope it goes well for you."

Hiroki didn't know how to respond to these well wishes. He well understood, however, that Akihiko had more than enough issue with his own family to be extremely sympathetic, even without knowing the true extent of his situation.

After snapping his phone shut, Hiroki moved to Umari at last.

"Kamijou-sama," Umari's sun-wrinkled face broke into an even larger smile. "So wonderful to see you after such a long absence."

Hiroki offered the older man a nod and began following his to the car. "I had planned to walk," Hiroki offered after a minute of silence.

"Ah, so your mother thought. She felt it unwise for you to exert yourself before such an important meeting. She also thought you might be early."

Umari opened the back door and stepped aside so that Hiroki could slide into the back seat of the car.

Beaming down on the Kamijou heir, Umari continued to smile warmly. "Ah, please let me say once more, Kamijou-sama, how good it is to see you.

"Welcome home."

Hiroki settled back into the seat and offered the man another slight nod, realizing as Umari closed the door, that his true home was currently with another man in Sapporo.

* * *

><p><strong>You might find it hard to believe, but when I had started this story my original intention was for it to be a comedy. Yup, a romp with misguided intentions and humorous miscommunications. Oh what a twisted path the plot bunny has scrambled down.<strong>

**Anyway my dear readers, that brings us to the end of the repost and my speedy updates. You'll have to wait till the weekend for a new chapter now. But just think, that gives you time to go back and review all those rapid-fire chapters.**

**I have to say, going through this fic again, making my revisions, I'm pleased. This story almost strikes me as a actual work of fiction. Heh.**

**Happy reading elsewhere until we can join up again.**


	35. Homecoming

**The Escort**

**Chapter 35: Homecoming**

* * *

><p>As he neared his childhood home, Hiroki felt the knots in his abdomen tighten. To distract himself he focused on the changes in the neighborhood since he'd left. He noted how much taller the trees were, the bushes thicker. He found himself wondering what his and Akihiko's secret base looked like now.<p>

Here and there Umari drove past new fences. Hiroki saw too that more than one house had been taken down and rebuilt. He knew that his father had done this with their own when he'd left home;* he imagined that was the man's way of exorcising his corrupt spirit from the house.

As the car neared his old residence Hiroki felt his gaze pulled by their opulent neighbor: the westernized Usami mansion, set back on its rambling grounds. His father had long felt the structure an architectural abomination amidst the more traditional homes occupied by the elite of this district. He wondered how the president would feel if he knew of the greater abominations that had taken place within the walls of the white-washed structure.

His vision of the manse faded from view as his breath clouded the car window. Hiroki drew back in surprise; unaware of how close he'd leaned to the glass. A chill shivered up his spine as he realized that, even now, the Usami home still pulled him like some dark magnet.

Pressing back into the lush, leather seat, Hiroki redirected his gaze.

Ahead, he saw the false bramble above low stone walls that served as the barrier for his family's estate. He could feel the shift in surfaces as Umari turned the car off the pavement. Hiroki heard the raked gravel drive grumble beneath slowing tires. Once past the overgrown facade, the space within the Kamijou estate opened up.

Lush, shaded gardens grew beneath canopies of carefully spaced trees. Here and there, trails of crushed basalt met ribbons of meticulously-set, flat river stones. These narrow paths wound organically, creating gray and brown maze-ways through the greenery.

Hiroki saw that his father had added a few new columnar boulders, bases buried deep in black soil; their shoulders draped with manicured moss. There were a few new sculptures as well. Dark eyes widened as he noted an abstract piece that could be nothing but a Noguchi Isamu.* Though Noguchi was also claimed by Americans, he could imagine his father's pleasure at having secured such a treasure.

When the car at last pulled up before the house, Hiroki's eyes strained to see something familiar. His chest ached, perhaps hoping for a sense of nostalgia and then counting the loss, as an unfamiliar dwelling came into view.

"Things have changed a bit since you left, Kamijou-sama."

Hiroki looked up and met Umari's wrinkle-lined eyes winking back at him in the rearview mirror. The man had felt his troubled spirit. "But perhaps even more still remains the same, if one takes time to look."

The old man had always spoken in riddles. It had immensely engaged Hiroki when he was younger; now however, he just found it irritating. Even so, Hiroki held Umari's reflected gaze and offered a short nod.

He was relieved when Umari glanced away to bring the car to its stop. The vehicle halted smoothly at the foot of the path leading up to the covered porch at the front of the house. Grabbing his satchel, Hiroki slipped back into his station as Kamijou heir, allowing Umari to come around and open his door. As he waited, he remembered his first evening with Nowaki and the fuss he'd made about entering the car on his own.

As Hiroki exited the car he saw the housekeeper, lady Umari, stationed on the porch to greet him. He fought the furrow that crept into his brow, noting his mother's absence.

Had the circumstances of his visit been different, he knew that she would have been there to welcome him too. Hiroki had experienced no small concern, wondering how his mother would react to the meeting set to occur in her household.

_She has known and accepted me. Will she still accept me now? _

As much as he articulated annoyance at her doting, Hiroki felt an unexpected tightness in his chest at the potential loss of this. Unconscious fingers ran through his brown bangs.

Umari, the driver, bowed and Hiroki dropped his nervous hand and nodded again. Having been so long in the city now, the uneven graveled path felt strange under his feet. As he neared the house, the lady Umari bowed. When she dipped, Hiroki used this opportunity to make a quick sweep of the new home's construction. This house was larger but, in keeping with his father's sensibilities, it still maintained a traditional appearance.

Hiroki saw that the materials used were of an even higher quality than the house's last incarnation, attesting to the senior Kamijou's ever-increasing means. Underground cables hid unsightly wires so that, from the outside, the structure appeared self-contained. Latticed cedar planking masked a re-enforced concrete foundation, gauged to withstand all but the fiercest of tremors. The rich, red-tiled roof was made of a ceramic-composite designed to endure. It struck Hiroki that, since his departure, in this new architecture, his father had done his best to ensure no other unexpected disaster befell his household.

As he climbed the steps to the landing, Hiroki recognized the wood beneath his best shoes as teak. His eyes made one last sweep and got caught on the ornate support posts, obviously hand-carved. His reverie broke when the lady Umari spoke, her voice light and crinkly with age.

"Welcome home, Kamijou-sama."

Hiroki brought his gaze back to the housekeeper and dipped his head. "Umari-san."

The lady offered another light bow. "May I say how wonderful it is to have our young master back with us… And please excuse my insolence for being the first to congratulate you on this momentous day, Kamijou-sama."

Hiroki tipped his head in acknowledgement but said nothing. While he'd been touched by the happy shine in the old woman's eyes and the glow on her cheeks, he had also heard the hesitation in her congratulations, the barest trace of tension in the housekeeper's cheerful voice.

As he followed the lady Umari into the house, Hiroki was struck by how odd it felt, entering through the front door as if he was a guest. His mind flashed back to his youth when the backdoor to the Kamijou home was flung open a dozen times a day as he dashed in and out.

Stepping into the entry, Hiroki stopped to shed his shoes. Bending to slip them into the artfully designed storage cubby, he felt something catch in his throat. Aware Umari was watching, Hiroki fought to keep his fingers from trembling as he reached out and ran a finger over a pair of the waiting slippers laid out.

Hiroki's eye recognized the small tear on the toe of one and he knew exactly how it had come to be there.

_These were mine. Mother bought them for me two weeks before I left. _Unable to help himself, Hiroki glanced at Umari. The shine in the old house keeper's eyes grew as she nodded.

"They are always here, Kamijou-sama." Umari's normally light voice was weighted. "They always have been."

Hiroki was furious at the tears that had suddenly welled in his eyes. His heart pounded as he considered the implications. He cleared his throat and shifted his gaze back to the slippers. He felt a powerful urge to avoid them and don a pair of the brand-new guest slippers that had also been set out, awaiting the Kimiyamas.

Instead, however, he stepped into his.

Umari bent and picked up Hiroki's satchel; she extended her hand to receive his coat. Hiroki noted a slight palsy in the housekeeper's weathered, brown fingers and wondered if this was from age or emotion.

"The Lady, your mother, is in the library, Kamijou-sama. The President is out in his studio."

Hiroki nodded at this information and his nervousness grew. While his father's sanctuary was his studio, his mother's retreat was the library. That they had not appeared to greet him together and were each ensconced their private domains, meant that they were un-unified and uneasy.

"Thank you, Umari-san."

Though he was gripped with a sudden chill, Hiroki shrugged his coat off of his shoulders. After taking his coat, Umari bowed and silently stepped aside as Hiroki moved forward into guest room. A quiet sigh slipped from him as his feet welcomed the old-familiar sensation of the tatami mats through his slippers. His eyes swept the space and he saw it set for the impending meeting, the low table artfully arranged, awaiting its guests.

Having stowed Hiroki's belongings, the lady Umari stepped in silently behind him. Hiroki tipped his head in the table's direction.

"I imagine you have much to do to prepare, so don't let me keep you, Umari-san. I'll find my own way around."

Not knowing what information his father might have given the Kimiyama family, he thought it would be best to quickly familiarize himself with the house, so that he did not appear as estranged as he felt.

After another bow, Umari slipped through the shoji and into the next room.

Hiroki moved over to the tokonoma.*The seasonal scroll that hung there had been one of his grandfather's. His gaze dropped down to the flower arrangement at the base of the alcove; the vessel was not one he knew, but he recognized the blooms it held as coming from his mother's greenhouse.

Drifting from here to the shoji Umari had disappeared through, Hiroki slid the panel back, revealing the house's main room. Here, a different wood had been used, deep red in contrast to the golden tones of the guest room. The tatami were different as well, a pale green that went beautifully with the dark wood. After years of living above and below others in the claustrophobic urban environment of apartments, the large main room with its high rafters and open space struck Hiroki as particularly grand.

Dark eyes flitted over the room, landing briefly on familiar objects before darting off again. Hiroki noted the closed family altar set against the far wall. He stepped over and reverently opened the doors, silently greeting his ancestors.

He bowed his head and his stomach clenched as the photos of his predecessors reminded him of his father's charge for an heir. Hiroki pinched the bridge of his nose as a sudden dizziness gripped him.

_I've never been with a woman, never even dated one._

From the day Akihiko had stumbled into his "secret base" he'd rejected every confession, his heart already committed.

Hiroki lifted his head and closed the altar. He passed through the rest of the house as if in a dream. Behind the two front rooms lay a long wide hallway that revealed the true breadth of the Kamijou home.

At one end of the hallway was a large and very modern kitchen. Hiroki had peeked in just long enough to see Umari busy with the dishes she'd soon be serving. He imagined at the other end would be a spacious formal bath. In between these were numerous smaller spaces: his parents sleeping quarters, his father's office, guest bedrooms, a safe room for his father's collections, and the library.

Skylights in the hall ceiling allowed natural light to illuminate the corridor. Hiroki moved quietly through the shadows of passing clouds, until he located the library. He stopped at the doorway, seeing his mother.

His feet refused to go further.

Hiroki had always been awed by the many faces of the lady Kamijou. Amidst her lady friends, she was so bright, her manner vigorous and often teasing. With him, growing up, she had vacillated between doting and scolding, the latter most often still being another manner of the former.

His mother kept her household running with a machinist's precision. At corporate functions, she quietly shone by the President's side, glowing brighter or respectfully fading as her husband's interactions called for. When guests visited there was no more gracious a hostess.

As far as Hiroki knew, his mother had never been anything but the perfect wife. In fact, he had only seen her openly oppose his father once and she'd lost that battle. Remembering this instance Hiroki's cheeks burned: her fleshless wounds had been profound.

Looking in on his mother now, her pale face focused on the embroidery held in her lap, unconscious of anyone watching, he saw that same devastating expression of defeat. Quickly, Hiroki backed away before his presence was noted. He steeled himself and made sure his next approach was loud enough to rouse her before he appeared in the door.

As he returned to the library's threshold, two pairs of dark eyes met. Though Hiroki could still see the unhappiness in his mother's gaze, her face had re-arranged itself into a pleasant facade.

"Mother."

The word caught in Hiroki's throat and he was embarrassed by the unevenness of his voice. He bowed. As he straightened, his eyes were drawn to his mother's face.

Kamijou-san did not rise, nor did she hold her son's gaze. She nodded and her attention drifted back down to the embroidery in her lap.

"I see Umari found you. I thought you might be early."

Hiroki's ears strained to hear either the tease or the chide in his mother's tone, but there was none. His chest was gripped with a fierce ache, hearing her voice so flat. He had fantasized about his homecoming at moments, but this response was nothing he'd ever envisioned.

Stepping into the room, he crossed over to stand before his mother. Hiroki drew his trousers up, just slightly at the knees to minimize creasing. Then he knelt before her and sat there silently.

When Kamijou-san refused to meet his gaze he cautiously extended a hand and placed it over hers. Beneath his hand he could feel his mother's tremble slightly, the only clear clue to the extent of the turmoil roiling inside her.

At a loss for what to say, Hiroki awkwardly offered, "The new house is beautiful, Mother. You've done an amazing job with it."

Hiroki was startled when these simple words sparked his mother into a blaze. He felt her hand take his, her grip so tight as to be crushing. Her large dark eyes held him just as tightly and where, before, there had been still pools of sorrow, a fire now raged.

"For years I have waited for my son's return, I have measured my words, laid foundations, planned and prayed… But never in my wildest dreams did I think that you'd re-enter this home under such circumstances…"

Hiroki felt his throat close when he saw the increased shine in his mother's eyes. A tear rolled down his mother's pale cheek, staining her perfectly made up face.

"Hiroki… Hiro-chan… My boy, what are you doing?"

Hiroki dropped his gaze from the searching dark eyes before him. He all but winced when his mother relinquished his hand and fine-boned fingers lifted up to stroke his brow.

"This isn't you…

"I have known you, fought for you, been proud of who you are and what you have done.

"Why? Why would you do such a thing? How could this happen? What did your father… "

Hearing these words, Hiroki felt one more fragile thing within him break.

He had not blamed his father for his actions: he understood the world the man lived in, what his father had witnessed. And Hiroki had preferred his banishment than to have the man know of his shame. He knew since that time, his mother had done her best to keep him and his father both in her heart. He knew too that, despite what had happened, she cared deeply for her husband.

Hiroki could not have his mother holding the President responsible for what was about to transpire: he did not want to compromise the love she held for his father any more than he already had.

"I sought father out."

Raising his head, Hiroki was met with a stunned gaze.

"We had a talk and came upon this arrangement. It's for the best."

At these words the Lady Kamijou's eyes only grew wider.

"What sort of trouble have you fallen into, Hiroki?"

It was all Hiroki could do not to look away again. He held his mother's stare.

"It's for the best," He repeated dumbly; the words tripped lamely off his tongue.

"But why, Hiroki? As often as I might have wished otherwise, this is not your nature."

Kamijou-san's hand had lingered at her son's brow, but now it dropped away. Her eye's narrowed slightly. "Is this about money?"

Hiroki damned his mother's sharpness. He remained silent, but she had seen enough to discern the answer in his expression, despite how he'd fought to keep his face still.

"Why didn't you come to me?"

Now it was Hiroki's turn to look shocked. "What?"

Kamijou-san's countenance fiercened. "Do you think that your mother is without any resources? I, who oversee the running of this whole household? Do not forget too, Kamijou Hiroki, that I had means of my own, well before I met your father."

"Is the world that you live in so completely void of female occupation that you never even gave pause to the fact that a woman, your mother, might help you?"

"And what of the young woman today, Kimiyama-san? What will the cost of this arrangement be for her in the end, if you go through with this farce? Or did you not think about her 'assistance' in this matter either?"

"I know it is in a man's nature to be selfish, but why must you Kamijou men wield this sword of yours so heedlessly?"

Hiroki did drop his eyes now, embarrassed both by his mother's words and his thoughtlessness.

Seeing the pain in her son's furrowed brow, the bright bloom of color on Hiroki's cheeks, Kamijou-san's voice became tempered.

"And what of Kusama-san? I thought… I'd hoped … That perhaps at last you might know happiness, my son.

Hiroki felt tears obscure his vision. His gaze had been following the intricate threads on the embroidery that still sat in his mother's lap; the pattern was a pheasant hidden amongst ferns. Mentally Hiroki wished that he too could vanish amongst these silken leaves, but his mother's words flushed him out. His mind fluttered wildly seeking another refuge.

"Nowaki and I... I have… I will… " Hiroki shook his head trying to clear it.

Kamijou-san's fine brow furrowed, sensing the depths of her son's distress. "Hiroki… call this off! Allow me to help you."

The pleading in his mother's tone pierced Hiroki to his very soul.

Despite how enticing his mother's offer might be, however, he had already made a deal with his father. Were he to back out now, or worse yet, if he was to accept his mother's help and his father somehow found out, he would become even less of a man in the President's eyes than he already was.

Hiroki shook his head again, but this time it was in answer. "No, Mother, I'm sorry; I can't."

Lifting his gaze, he stared into her solemn face. He reached his hand out and covered hers once more, offering it a light squeeze.

"This arrangement is for the best."

He watched a swarm of emotions crowd the dark skies of his mother's eyes: sorrow, disappointment, anger, disgust.

Kamijou-san pulled her hand back harshly. "You and your father! You rival one another in your foolishness! And soon I will not be the only woman sacrificed to the altar of your Kamijou pride.

"Fine! You make your deals with the devil but don't expect others to revel in your hell with you!"

Hiroki rocked back at her words as if he'd been slapped. Never had his mother spoken to him with such open anger.

No sooner had Kamijou-san's true face been revealed, than she pulled a new mask over it. Her voice dropped down and suddenly became calm again… Resigned.

"Go find your father. He's out in his studio. Tell him _your _guests will be arriving soon and he needs to get ready."

Hiroki reached out to set his hand on one of his mother's trembling shoulders but she pulled away from his touch.

"Hurry and find him…

"With all this useless talk," Kamijou-san's voice choked, "I've allowed myself to foolishly ruin my makeup. Now I have to go put myself together again."

Mutely Hiroki rose from his knees. He stood, his own body felt shaken. At the door he turned back. His mother had picked up her needlework once more but held it unmoving. Her head was hung low.

Hiroki bowed to his mother again, though she couldn't see it. His chest swelled with words he longed to pour out to her, but all he managed to offer was: "Mother…"

_I'm sorry. I have not even been back in my old home for an hour and already I have caused such upheaval._

Without looking up, Kamijou-san waved her son away. Hiroki cast one last sorrowful glance at his mother before disappearing in to the cloud-dimmed hallway.

Eyes filled with tears, Kamijou-san picked up her needle with tremoring fingers. She ran her needle through the silk, driving it deep into her finger in the process. As if in a daze she raised her pierced finger up. Even through her blurred eyes, she could see the fat, crimson drop, welling where her flesh had been breached.

_My blood has fled me again._

Kamijou-san pressed her bloody digit to her lips, but it wasn't enough to stifle the quiet sobs that escaped her.

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><p><strong>Okay all so here is my first new chapter since I finished reposting. Hope I still have it. <strong>

**My deep thanks to all who have stayed with me faithfully and those new readers who were so diligent in my reposting.**

**Next chapter will feature a special fountain, a bad flash back, and some Hiroki/Papa Kamijou ... it's a game the whole family can play. After that is Hiroki's meeting with Kimiyama Shiori and after that, more Nowaki and Dr. Carter antics...**

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><p><strong>Notes on terms and customs...<strong>

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><p><strong>*<strong> _An unusual feature of Japanese housing is that houses are presumed to have a limited lifespan, and are generally torn down and rebuilt after a few decades, generally twenty years for wooden buildings and thirty years for concrete buildings- **en . wikipedia wiki / Housing_in_Japan **_**(Take out spaces)**

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><p><strong>*<strong> _Isamu Noguchi (1904–1988) was one of the twentieth century's most important and critically acclaimed sculptors. Through a lifetime of artistic experimentation, he created sculptures, gardens, furniture and lighting designs, ceramics, architecture, and set designs. His work, at once subtle and bold, traditional and modern, set a new standard for the reintegration of the arts._

_Noguchi, an internationalist, traveled extensively throughout his life. (In his later years he maintained studios both in Japan and New York.) He discovered the impact of large-scale public works in Mexico, earthy ceramics and tranquil gardens in Japan, subtle ink-brush techniques in China, and the purity of marble in Italy. He incorporated all of these impressions into his work, which utilized a wide range of materials, including stainless steel, marble, cast iron, balsawood, bronze, sheet aluminum, basalt, granite, and water. _

_Born in Los Angeles, California, to an American mother and a Japanese father, Noguchi lived in Japan until the age of thirteen, when he moved to Indiana. While studying pre-medicine at Columbia University, he took evening sculpture classes on New York's Lower East Side, mentoring with the sculptor Onorio Ruotolo. He soon left the University to become an academic sculptor._

_In 1926 Noguchi saw an exhibition in New York of the work of Constantin Brancusi's that profoundly changed his artistic direction. With a John Simon Guggenheim Fellowship, Noguchi went to Paris, and from 1927 to 1929 worked in Brancusi's studio. Inspired by the older artist's reductive forms, Noguchi turned to modernism and a kind of abstraction, infusing his highly finished pieces with a lyrical and emotional expressiveness, and with an aura of mystery. - **www . noguchi noguchi / biography **_**(Take out spaces)**

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><p><strong>*<strong>_Tokonoma__ (__床の間 __toko-no-ma__), is a Japanese term generally referring to a built-in recessed space in a Japanese style reception room, in which items for artistic appreciation are displayed. In English, __tokonoma__ is usually called __**alcove**__. The items usually displayed in a __tokonoma__ are calligraphic and/or pictorial __scrolls__ and __an arrangement of flowers__. __Bonsai__ and __okimono__ are also sometimes displayed there, although traditionally, bonsai were considered to be too dirty for such a highly respected place. The tokonoma and its contents are essential elements of traditional Japanese interior decoration. The word 'toko' literally means "floor" or "bed"; 'ma' means "space" or "room."_

_When seating guests in a Japanese-style room, the correct __etiquette__ is to seat the most important guest with his or her back facing the tokonoma. This is because of modesty; the host should not be seen to show off the contents of the tokonoma to the guest, and thus it is necessary not to point the guest towards the tokonoma._

_Stepping within it is strictly forbidden, except to change the display when a strict etiquette must be followed._

_The pillar on one side of the tokonoma is usually made of wood, specially prepared for the purpose. It can range from a seemingly raw trunk with bark still attached, to a square piece of heart wood with very straight grain. The choice of __toko-bashira__ determines the level of formality for the tokonoma.- **en . wikipedia wiki /Tokonoma **_**(Take out spaces)**


	36. The Proposal

**Bet you all thought I was never coming back to this... Surprise!**

**The Escort**

**Chapter Thirty-six: The Proposal**

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><p>The Hokkaido skyline was draped in mist. Outside Dr. Carter's suite, in the fenced courtyard surrounding the pool, Nowaki sat cross-legged beneath the small covered porch. The early morning was quiet, the other inn residents barely stirring.<p>

Steam wafted up from the pool's water, curling as it ascended to join the low-hung clouds. In a corner of the yard amidst a careful selection of stones, a small bamboo-dipping fountain rose and fell, its watery tics measuring the new day's passing minutes.

His dark head bowed, Nowaki raised a hand to rub at the stiffness lingering in his neck, the result of holding certain positions for too long the previous evening as he'd pleasured Dr. Carter.

Despite how deeply immersed he was in the text that lay open in his lap, awareness of this ache passed from the periphery into the front of his thoughts.

With a barely audible sigh, Nowaki lowered his massaging hand and closed the cover of his book. One long finger caught in the pages in the off-chance he'd return to it. But now that his mind had shifted, there were other places in his body he was suddenly conscious of where stiffness had also pooled.

Wincing as he rose, Nowaki silently raced to catalog which aches came from last night's coupling and which he still carried from his disastrous date before Dr. Carter.

"… Aaron." Nowaki reminded himself.

He knew that he'd driven the doctor to frustration the day before constantly slipping back into the more formal address. Usually he was very good at remembering such things, but at this point in his life there was only one man with whom he wished to have such informal intimacy.

_Hiro-san._

Even thinking the name filled Nowaki with warmth, despite the new ache that bloomed with it simultaneously.

He had purposely left his phone in his bag, tucked away in the suite's small bathroom, knowing that otherwise, carrying it with him, the temptation to call Hiroki would be too great. Rising up, Nowaki stepped over to the open screen and peered into the suite. Blue eyes stared longingly at the bathroom door.

Though he knew his stocking feet made virtually no noise on the tatamis, seeing the doctor's long form draped over the futon sleeping so soundly, Nowaki didn't dare to step in out of concern that his movements might rouse him. After all, Dr. Carter had said that he wanted to sleep in today and Nowaki was only too happy to oblige him. Especially since, even with how worn he was, he had been getting up ahead of the doctor each morning to have an hour or two to study before he roused and Nowaki cherished today's extra time.

Assured that his client was still fast asleep, Nowaki returned to his pile of books, the one he'd been reading still clasped in his hand. He withdrew his finger and set it atop the stack.

The other benefit of moving into the day later was that it would only come to its end faster. Then tomorrow…

_Tomorrow I'll be back in Tokyo with Hiro-san._

While he knew it wasn't helpful, particularly while he was on another man's time, Nowaki couldn't help but wonder if Hiro-san was up already too and what he might be doing. His mind skipped over the most provocative possibilities and instead pictured his dear professor tucked into his apartment amidst his books, working on his dissertation or grading papers.

_Maybe catching up on the laundry_.

A dozen other images flickered through Nowaki's head. The peaceful domesticity of the scenes a sharp contrast to the finer things he was scheduled to accompany Dr. Carter on later. Even so, he would have traded any or all of the elite aspects of his upcoming outing to share even one quiet hour with Hiro-san.

Nowaki felt a soft pang in his conscience. Such thoughts made him feel as though he was being disloyal to Dr. Carter when the man had been remarkably good to him.

Yesterday they had had a full day, the doctor taking him shopping, buying him several new sets of clothes, despite his protests. Then they'd spent the rest of the afternoon visiting shrines and small museums, eating fine meals all along their travels. The conversation had been good and Nowaki had learned quite a bit of Hokkaido history too in the process. Then the day had concluded with a pleasurable soak in the suite's hot pool.

_Or almost concluded…_

Nowaki's mind flashed back to the antics that had filled the rest of the evening.

He'd done his best to fill the doctor's needs, but while most of the things he'd performed weren't anything he hadn't done with Dr. Carter on previous trips, somehow things had felt very different. Now when he was being sexual with Dr. Carter, he felt himself tensing up or drifting off at off inopportune moments.

Nowaki wonder if this was because something had shifted in him since the night Kobayashi and his business cronies had reduced him.

He'd had similar experiences for a few weeks after his one and only "date" with Usami Haruhiko and struggled to recall how he'd eventually recovered himself.

Once again Nowaki's mind drifted to Hiroki.

_How strong Hiro-san must be to have endured all that he has and yet to have come so far in the world._

Pride for his lover and conviction of his own weakness swelled simultaneously in Nowaki's chest and he was suddenly breathless. Feeling strangely claustrophobic, he began pacing the perimeter of the pool's enclosed yard. The urge to cry out, to run, terribly trembled his lean frame, but rather than do this, he eventually collapsed down, long legs folding, sitting on his heels beside the bamboo fountain.

Heart pounding, Nowaki felt as though someone had suddenly pulled all the air from the world. This sudden and unexplained distress had happened to him more than once in the past few days, and was something else he just had begun experiencing since the incident with Kobayashi.

Rather than giving into the panic that so tightly gripped him, however, Nowaki focused his attention on breathing in time to the rise and fall of the fountain's bamboo dipper. Soon getting caught in its gentle rhythm, he felt himself begin to calm.

Extending long fingers, Nowaki brushed these across the surface of the water in the fountain's basin. The water still held the morning's chill and something in its crispness further grounded him. Lifting his hand he stared at his cool, wet fingers a moment before touching them to his heated forehead.

Like everything these days, even this simple action brought his thoughts back to his Hiro-san, the press of the man's lips against his skin.

Shifting out from behind his hand, Nowaki peered into the water-filled basin as if it could possibly hold the answers to all that troubled him. For several long minutes his blue eyes simply stared, transfixed, at his dancing reflection on the surface of the fountain's pool. He watched how the water would draw just short of smooth, only to break into ripples again when the next draught of the dipper fell upon it.

Seeing his visage assemble and shatter in time to the fountain, Nowaki found his lesson.

_I need to be like this. _

_After every obstacle, I must gather and still myself again until the next challenge comes, otherwise I will never succeed._

_And I have to succeed. I have to… for Hiro-san._

_I must make myself worthy of him… To be able to stand by his side. I must show him that I am strong too… _

With these thoughts Nowaki's eyes were pulled from the pool back to the porch where his textbooks sat.

_I have to study harder. I need to, if I am to get out of this life… To make a new life with Hiro-san… One befitting him._

Looking back to the fountain, Nowaki bowed his head to whatever spirit lived there. Thanking it for the insight it had blessed him with, he inhaled deeply, his lungs open and heart steady again.

Nowaki rose now and after a stretch of his lean body, returned to his books and his hope. With any luck he'd be able to spend another hour with them before he had to shut both up for the day.

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><p>With a deep yawn Dr. Carter stretched and opened his eyes. He lay still another moment in the quiet, his muscles feeling pleasantly used.<p>

As he reached over to pluck his watch from the nightstand, he noted that Nowaki's side of the bed was empty. Slipping the expensive timepiece onto his wrist, the doctor saw that it was just past 10:30.

As the last of his sleep left him, Aaron was struck by how silent the suite was. Usually he awakened to the smell of coffee and the quiet sounds of Nowaki shuffling about the suite's small kitchenette. A smile curled his lips at how lucky he'd been to find such a treasure.

A world traveler, he had a boy secured in almost every place he visited regularly, but out of all his companions, Nowaki struck him as particularly special.

His mind drifted automatically back to the previous day, their shopping trip. Most of the young men he "courted" would have jumped at the chance to have him spend money on them, even if they initially feigned otherwise. But with Nowaki, the discomfort was genuine, and, given his current profession, it also made him remarkable.

There were other things, however, that also set his companion apart: Nowaki's marvelous mind, for instance. Aaron recalled snippets of their conversation as they'd toured; Nowaki's facility for absorbing and recalling new information was astounding. It was a mind made for higher callings than being a pleasure boy.

It was also the reason Aaron had become particularly concerned about the toll Nowaki's lifestyle was taking on the young man. He'd found himself thinking often about the new bruises and the burns his escort sported. He'd also observed, that while still incredibly amicable, Nowaki was quieter this trip, pensive to the point of withdrawn at times.

Rising from the bed, the doctor slipped into a pair of light cotton sleep pants and pulled on his short robe. He moved from the suite's sleeping quarters and found Nowaki out on the porch so deep in the book he was reading that the young man didn't immediately notice his appearance.

Aaron studied the dark head bent so intently over what was obviously a math book. His light blue eyes dropped down noting the rest of the small stack at Nowaki's side. He had been aware that Nowaki had been slipping out of their futon early each day, apparently to do this.

Within him, Aaron felt something shift and swell at this realization: that what the young man had told him in the car the first day of their extended date was true and he was willing to work to change his life. Aaron wondered what he could do to encourage this further.

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><p>Nowaki looked up when he heard Dr. Carter clear his throat. In a flash his book was closed, and he, scrambling to his feet with an expression of chagrin on his face.<p>

"Dr. Cart… Aaron-san," Nowaki automatically dipped slightly in apology. "I'm so sorry! I just sat down to read for a minute and lost track of the time. I don't have your coffee ready or anything else prepared."

The doctor sat down on the porch and motioned for Nowaki to do the same. Uncomfortably Nowaki joined him.

"You've been studying in the mornings, Nowaki?"

Dropping his eyes, Nowaki looked away. He felt the fear begin to rise up within him again as his mind ran through all the things Matsuo might next subject him to if he upset such a valued client. Nowaki bowed low where he sat.

"I'm sorry, Aaron-san… I didn't mean…"

Smiling Aaron reached over and gave Nowaki's head a bit of a ruffle before he could finish stumbling out his apology.

"What are you studying for, Nowaki?"

Nowaki had to fight not to cringe when the doctor first touched him, but hearing no rebuke in the tone he lifted his head. Dr. Carter's expression was merely pleasant and curious.

"I passed my high school equivalency and am studying for my college entrance exams."

A pang of guilt gripped Nowaki telling Dr. Carter this. His equivalency results had been delivered to him just shortly before this trip and with all that happened and he hadn't even told Hiro-san this yet.

"Oh?" Aaron's brows rose at this news.

Nowaki nodded. For some reason he felt compelled to reach over and pull the envelope with the results out from between the pages of the book he'd tucked it into. He held this out to the doctor with the air of a child offering his report card to his father.

Aaron took the letter and opened it. He was fluent enough to easily read the text and Nowaki's scores. Folding the paper back up carefully he handed the letter back.

"These numbers are remarkably high, Nowaki. You should be proud."

"I had an excellent tutor…" Nowaki said softly.

Dr. Carter missed the significance of Nowaki's expression when he said this, instead, his mind had raced ahead. All the parts of the things he'd been ruminating over regarding Nowaki had suddenly come together.

"Nonsense. As good as your tutor may be, you're the one who took the test."

Before Nowaki could counter this, Dr. Carter cut him off.

"When are your exams?"

"Next week."

"And do you think you'll score as high on those as you did here?"

"I plan to do my best." Nowaki replied with no small conviction.

At first Aaron chuckled at this, but then his face quickly fell into an expression that was significantly more serious.

"Nowaki…"

His tone mirrored this shift and Nowaki met his gaze, giving him his complete attention.

"I am a man of a certain age. I like my life a certain way… I want to be comfortable when I am not teaching or operating. I need to be, in fact, to be successful in what I do."

Nowaki furrowed his brow lightly at this strange declaration, but remained silent, waiting for Dr. Carter to continue.

"I think... I think that I could be very comfortable with you. We get along well.

"I know that I spoke with you on my last trip about securing your contract. Setting you up here for when I am in Japan. But I have begun to think lately that perhaps... Prehaps I'd be most comfortable keeping you with me."

As the significance of what Dr. Carter was saying began to sink in, Nowaki's eyes widened. Within his chest his heart began to beat wildly.

"Dr. Cart… Aaron-san."

Aaron raised his hand, stopping Nowaki short.

"Just hear me out Nowaki."

"I am not saying that I am in love with you. This is not a confession. But I do think that you and I could come to an arrangement that would benefit us both.

"I am going to be traveling in Japan for another month before I head back to Washington.

"You take your test and get your scores… Good scores.

"Given my position at the University, I know I can get you in."

Seeing the wonder on Nowaki's face, Dr. Carted continued. "I have connections with people in government here as well. Several who owe me favors. Given this I'm sure I could get whatever documents… visas… etc. that you would need to travel quite quickly.

"You can leave this life, Nowaki. And don't tell me that you're content with it as you did the last time I was here, because I can clearly see that isn't true.

"Come with me to Seattle, go to school, live with me in my house… I will of course expect certain things of you, but I won't be too demanding.

"We can make it work so that we're both _comfortable_… Or certainly more so than either of us has been."

Nowaki was completely bewildered by the turn in his morning. The things that Dr. Carter was saying… What he was offering. If he had only proposed all this the last time he was here, things might have been so different.

_But then I would have never met Hiro-san._

"I am overwhelmed by your offer Dr. Carter… and your kindness." Nowaki's voice was solemn. "But my contract…"

"I can call Matsuo-san this afternoon and have it turned over to me. You agree to my offer, this arrangement, for two years and I'll release you from any further obligation from both the contract... And myself if you wish it."

Nowaki shook his dark head. "But, there's more than that, now. I have additional debt."

Hearing this, Aaron frowned. "How much?"

A rare blush crept up onto Nowaki's cheeks. He knew that both Dr. Carter's tenacity and his manner here were the result of his American upbringing, but this style of conversation felt so invasive.

Seeing the young man's unease, Aaron realized he was perhaps pushing too hard, coming on too strong. He wanted this to work out: both for his interest and Nowaki's. So, rather than press forward he relented.

"Never mind," he offered this with a wave of his hand. "Whatever the amount, Matsuo-san is first and foremost a businessman. I am sure that the three of us can come to some sort of arrangement, Nowaki. One that is beneficial to all of us."

_But Hiro-san…_

Aaron rose before Nowaki could offer any more protestations. "Look, there's a lot to think about here and you don't have to accept my offer right now. Take some time.

"But do think about it... Seriously."

"Although given your circumstances and if what you told me about desiring to make something of yourself is true, Nowaki…" He let this last sentence drift off unfinished.

_But Hiro-san…_

"I'm going to jump in the shower and have a quick shave. Then how about you and I go out for coffee this morning?… What's left of it... And grab a bite to eat in town." Dr. Carter's voice was light once more, almost as if their seconds-old, life-altering conversation had never happened.

"We have a lot of sights to see today."

After another quick ruff of Nowaki's stunned, dark head the doctor stepped back into the suite, leaving Nowaki alone on the porch with his books and his thoughts.

Nowaki's mind reeled with all that had just transpired. There was so much possibility in what Dr. Carter had just offered. Despite the circumstances, it was in many ways a more than fair exchange and not so different than what he was doing now.

_I could get away… Start a new… Make something of myself…_

_But Hiro-san…_

What had initially appeared to be an abbreviated day looked like it could now stretch out for an eternity with all he had to consider.

Nowaki reached out to gather his books and take them inside so that he could finish getting ready for the day himself. As he did, he noticed his hands were shaking.

* * *

><p><strong>So it is now officially Thanksgiving Day here. And what am I thankful for? The fact that I am writing again, and that I have readers who have not given up on me completely. <strong>

**You may have to go back and re-read this story. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd forgotten it. I need to read through it again myself. But I have the rest of the story more or less planned out already. Even when I am not putting these little tales of mine down on paper, I never cease writing them in my head. Anyway, I am now actively updating my stories again and hope to add to this one relatively soon.**

**Thank you so much for reading! I would love hearing from you and what you think of the canon riff plot twist!**

**Next chapter back to the Kamijou household.**


	37. Memories

**The Escort**

**Chapter 37: Memories**

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><p>Hiroki fled the house through the back door, not even bothering to nod as he passed by lady Umari in the kitchen on his way out. After pausing for only a moment on the back porch to slip out of his house slippers and into a pair of wooden-soled geta, he didn't slow until he was well into the back garden.<p>

Chest tight, his mother's words echoing in his ears, Hiroki's eyes filled. He kept moving, however, until his vision blurred too much to walk without stumbling. Stopping to wipe his damp eyes with the back of one hand, at last, he allowed his lean legs to fold.

He remained crouched, squatting on his heels until his breathing evened out and his senses stilled. As his vision cleared, Hiroki took stock of his surroundings. His feet had carried him on autopilot in the direction of his father's pottery studio but he was still about twenty feet from its entrance.

Marveling at how, even blind, his body remembered this invisible boundary and held him to it, a sad smile lightly curled the corner of his mouth. Shifting his gaze, Hiroki saw the small fountain nearby that had served as a marker for him since he was a boy.

* * *

><p>"Hiro-chan, come with me."<p>

Mournful-eyed, Hiroki looked up at his mother from where he knelt on the back porch. He was no longer crying and the sharp sting in his backside where his father had caned him was fading. The pain inflicted by his father's harsh words, however, still burned bright within him.

"Come on now. You have sat there long enough, I think."

A soft huff of relief escaped Hiroki at his mother's words.

After this punishment, he was not too proud to take the delicate hand extended to him. He was only too happy to rise having been straining so long to stay up on his knees, trying to save his tender cheeks from the ache caused by their press against his bare heels.

His mother allowed a moment for any stiffness in his thin limbs to settle out, before she reached out her free hand and lightly ruffled his tousled, brown head. Her gentle touch jarred a fresh sob from him.

"Hiro-chan?"

"Papa's angry."

All the sorrow in the world, it seemed, was contained in these two words. Slipping her hand down to take her son's chin, Hiroki's mother lifted his bowed head.

"Yes, your papa was angry. But he'll settle out soon enough." Well acquainted with her husband's sometimes volatile moods she offered this assurance with a light sigh.

"Do you know why he became angry with you, Hiroki?"

Dropping dark eyes from her too-compassionate gaze, Hiroki nodded. "I touched something I shouldn't have…"

It was mid spring. Now five and able to be outside on his own, Hiroki had begun exploring the estate's grounds with great vigor. Unfortunately, today had taken him further away from the house than usual and he'd wandered into his father's studio.

To Hiroki's young eyes, he had slipped into an enchanted dimension. Surrounded by the smell of aging clay and burned wood, he'd been immediately captivated. All the tools and equipment had him enthralled and he'd moved from one to another with only the most cautious of touching; at least, until he saw the row of vases drying out on one of the work tables.

With the clear eye of a child, he immediately identified the best of the vessels and soon held it, cradled in curious hands. Hiroki marveled at how light the piece felt, the bone-dry porcelain cool and chalky under his fingers.

He had just reached out to set it back amongst its kin on the table when his father's voice cracked the studio's silence like a whip. Starting at his name so harshly called, his grasp faltered. The un-fired vase slipped between stunned fingers shattering against the wooden floor at his feet.

"Mmmmm"

Hearing his mother's hum, Hiroki didn't have to look up to know she was nodding. Nor did he want to; for fear that despite her kind tone he would now encounter the same look of disapproval in her eyes he'd seen in his father's.

Keeping his head bowed he allowed her to slip his feet into his garden geta. Once his small feet were properly shod, his mother took up his hand again.

Hiroki didn't resist as he might normally have and instead, allowed himself to be led back out into the yard.

"Your father works very hard, Hiro-chan. He has a difficult job and it is very stressful for him. But he does it to take care of us. He has made for us a good home to protect our bodies and this beautiful garden to nourish our souls."

"Oh, my! The cherry tree is about to come into bloom."

Looking over at the tree and then at his mother, Hiroki wondered if her stop and sudden diversion didn't have more to do with his pronounced limping than a true interest in the miniature tree. Just in case, he straightened his spine and pulled his narrow shoulders back to stand straighter, despite how this exacerbated his aches.

Glancing down and seeing her son's proud posture restored, Hiroki's mother let her hand slip from his. She gave a light nod of approval and began walking again, still keeping her pace languid.

"Because your father takes such good care of us, Hiro-chan, it is only right we do our best to take care of him. Neh?"

There was no fault Hiroki's young mind could find in this logic.

"Of course!"

Pleased to hear the spark return to his voice, looking up at last, Hiroki met his mother's smile.

They continued their trek together through the garden not saying anything else for a time; the only noise between them the rustle of their yukata joining the garden's soft sighs.

As they walked, Hiroki noted that every so often, his mother would gracefully dip to pick up a small, white stone from amidst the path's gravel and slip this into one of her pockets. Soon his sharp eyes were scanning the pebbles beneath him and he was picking up stones too, following her example, only choosing the whitest and roundest.

By the time they stopped beside a small bamboo dipping fountain, one of the many water features that peppered the Kamijou grounds, Hiroki's bony-fingered hands were so full of stones they couldn't close. He watched curiously as his mother knelt beside the fountain and began to pull the stones from her pocket, laying them on the moss-covered ground in a neat row.

Twenty feet beyond the fountain sat his father's studio. With a wince, Hiroki knelt down and added his stones to the growing line.

"Out in the world, Hiroki, your father is surrounded by people, all of them wanting something from him. His relatives, his employee's, his clients. The President is a responsible man… Honorable… and so he does his best to meet all of their needs. To keep them safe and prosperous."

Listening to his mother's quiet words, Hiroki frowned down at his stones, thinking that this sounded like a terribly difficult charge.

"Then, when your father comes home, he is surrounded by us. This is different, but he still must take care of us too."

Hearing this, Hiroki was suddenly convicted of being burdensome; clearly reading his expression, his mother rushed in before he fell too hard into this emotion.

"You're papa likes taking care of us, Hiroki. Surely you know this. For example, you can tell how much he enjoys it when you two read together."

Hiroki nodded, his heart warmed at thoughts of sitting beside his father, as papa showed him stories and asked him about his letters. At the same time his low belly twisted at the possibility that what he'd done today was _so _bad, his father might not want to ever sit with him like that again.

"Look here, Hiroki."

Dark eyes shifted away from such worrisome speculation and he peered into the basin of the fountain, watching the water ripple with each measure from the bamboo dipper.

Beneath the surface, tiny koi fry darted. Hiroki felt proud to know that baby fish had not appeared there by magic but were placed by Umari, skimmed from the larger ponds, so that they could grow in safety, away from their bigger, hungry relatives.

Then the clear surface shattered and Hiroki watched wide-eyed as his mother's hand dipped down to the bottom of the fountain's small basin to lay one of the gathered white stones there. Withdrawing her pale arm, she sighed.

"Will you place the next one Hiroki? I'm afraid to get my sleeve too damp."

Hiroki's thin chest puffed out slightly with pride at the chance to help his mother and save her pretty yukata from getting soiled. He pushed his own off of his shoulders, allowing it fall down around his sashed waist. The warm spring sun kissed the skin of his back as he picked out a stone. His wiry arm moved down into the cool water amidst the frantic fry and placed it beside its brother.

For the next several minutes Hiroki worked diligently to follow his mother's gentle directions, placing one stone after another at the bottom of the fountain until all of them had been used. Pulling back into the top of his yukata, he blushed under his mother's quiet beaming.

"Do you see what we made here, Hiroki?"

Looking back down into the water, Hiroki noted that the baby koi had already taken to hiding amongst the stones.

"We made a safe place for the fish?"

"Ah, you are so smart, Hiroki! Yes, love, we have made a _refuge_." She looked over towards the pottery studio and Hiroki followed her gaze. "A refuge is a place that one can feel safe and be with no troubles."

"I'll have to remember to let Umari know that we placed these stones here. A refuge should never be disturbed if possible."

Though only five, Hiroki understood what his mother was telling him: his father's studio was his refuge and they must do what they could to protect it.

Convicted anew by his transgression and how bad it was, Hiroki whispered, "I won't ever go into Papa's studio again, Mama."

A gentle hand caught a wisp of his unruly brown hair and smoothed it behind his ear. "Oh, you mustn't say that, Hiroki. Of course you may go in! But… _only_ when your father invites you."

"And just in case you might forget this, as boys.. er, young men sometimes do… Look into the fountain again, Hiroki. You have made a reminder for yourself here.

Glancing once more into the basin, he saw this was true too. With his mother's direction, Hiroki realized he had made an English "X" with the stones.

"The stones will call out to you now if you get too close, Hiroki. Just make sure to keep your ears open." With this his mother rose.

A pair of warm lips pressed to his forehead to smooth out the furrow that had formed on his five-year-old brow.

"Come on with me back to the house now, Hiroki. I think that Umari has made your favorite for lunch."

* * *

><p>The soft click and clack of the fountain's bamboo dipper was the first thing Hiroki registered as he moved into back the present.<p>

Given the words so recently exchanged with his mother, this memory held even more poignancy and he emerged from it slowly, his eyes weighted with new tears. Rising, he took a few hesitant steps over and peered into the fountain's basin. His heart stuttered seeing the algae-worn, pebbled "X" still in the basin's bottom.

Their koi fry's sanctuary had remained undisturbed all these years. Hiroki wished he could have said the same for his father's studio.

His dark eyes shifted over to the President's refuge, noting now, that like the house, it too had been rebuilt. He began moving towards it, but his mind was still caught in the cool waters of the fountain and the stones it contained.

His mother's lesson had been kind, but the stone reminder hardly needed. That day was both the first and the last time Hiroki ever gave his father reason to cane him and he'd kept more than a healthy distance between himself and the studio throughout the rest of his young life.

_Until…_

Desperate to keep his mind from traveling further down that path, Hiroki focused his consciousness firmly on the world outside rather than within him. As his gaze traveled over the exterior of his father's shop, he noted that the space had been expanded, the materials used in the remodel improved here as well.

The studio's sliding screen doors were open and he could vaguely make out his father in the shadows, moving within the space. Hiroki's chest suddenly constricted. But rather than easing when he looked elsewhere, his distress only increased.

His sharp eyes had immediately noted the garden's growth around the studio.

_Something isn't right. _

It took him a minute to realize that his father had shifted the location of his studio at least three feet to the left from where it had previously stood. The plants to the right had yet to accommodate for the additional space, the vacancy between them and the building uneasy. Similarly on the left, the old growth had been removed, the newer plantings stark-seeming in their immaturity.

A dark hand twisted his low belly at this realization.

Umari had told Hiroki when he was a child that his mother had brought in an astrologer renowned for her gifts to help pick the ideal place on the property for the President's studio. And while his father teased lady Kamijou about her superstitious ways, he had built his studio where the seer decreed.

After what had transpired within its walls, Hiroki imagined his father must have felt it necessary to tear down and build his sanctuary anew. Moving the structure over to escape the past while still keeping it within the astrologer's coordinates revealed Kamijou Hiromasa's own superstitious nature.

As much as Hiroki promised himself he wouldn't allow his mind to return to such a black place today, the sight of this sent him spinning: the last day that his father claimed him unraveling movie-like in his mind.

* * *

><p>Walking through the garden on his way to the back door, Hiroki shifted his pack and sighed. The humid early summer air had taken all the starch out of his school uniform and it clung damply to his lean frame. Rather than annoy him however, he plucked at his limp shirt with a small smile on his face.<p>

_Never going to have to wear this again after next week. Thank Kami!_

One more boring summer studying and interning for Kamjou Corps and then... Next fall it would be free dress at the University.

Hiroki was only too happy to put his high school days behind him. _Plus, I'll be going to school with Akihiko again. _

_I still can't believe that smart bastard is graduating a year early._

It didn't matter that they had picked different majors, the simple fact that they'd be in the same general vicinity made Hiroki's heartbeat accelerate. They would see each other far more often than they had in the last few years, likely study together. And without the vigorous watch of parents, Hiroki's at least, Akihiko's could care less what their son did it seemed, who knew what might possibly happen.

At this thought Hiroki's long fingers slipped to the first button on his uniform jacket. A flush that had nothing to do with the afternoon heat filled his cheeks. Despite the fact that a number of girls had asked after it, he'd made it all through high school with his blazer intact.

While he'd never admit it and would just as likely never offer it outright, he had saved it for someone.

_My princess…_

A new wave of heat filled Hiroki's cheeks knowing that it was wrong of him to think of Akihiko like this. To ascribe such a feminine title to one whose body was so decidedly and deliciously male was unnatural.

He wished he could blame his defective character on what had happened to him over the past few years, but Hiroki new all too well that his nature had proven itself far more early. He'd thought of Akihiko like this, loved him like this too, since they were both children.

Too lost in these troublesome thoughts to be paying much attention to his surroundings, Hiroki didn't notice the tall, lean figure watching him from beneath the shade of an old fir. But his mind was pulled harshly back from his ponderings when a strong hand grabbed the strap on his pack from behind and jerked.

Hiroki toppled backwards, his pack sliding off his shoulder into the dark-green ivy lining the path. Before fell completely, however, his back slammed into a hard chest, just as a lean arm reached around him, catching his gasping throat in a vice-like chokehold.

"Hiroki…"

An all too familiar voice ghosted into his ear, one that haunted his days as well as his nights. A violent shiver tremored his body, despite the heat.

Breathing compromised as much by his own fear as the crook of the arm squeezing his airway, he tried to blink away the dark spots that suddenly danced in his vision. Hiroki could feel himself being pulled back deeper into the garden, despite his struggles.

Eyes blurring, he watched one of his shoes come loose, caught on a flagstone set into the path he was being pulled down. It sat there forlornly. Without its mate it looked like a lost child and Hiroki felt his heart well with a strange and overwhelming sorrow for it.

A moment later this emotion was jarred from his chest as he hit the ground, breath knocked from his lungs now completely, the weight of a larger, heavier body atop his, pressing him into the damp earth alongside the path.

It was like being buried alive.

And Hiroki had died this way too many times already.

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><p><strong>Thank you all so much for the welcome back reviews. That was the most amazing group of reviews I have received for some time and it has really encouraged me to continue forward with this fic. I believe I sent PM's to all who had an account or logged in to review. For those of you who aren't part of this site or if I missed you, please know that your thoughtful words and reflections on my last chapter made not just my holiday weekend but my whole week.<strong>

**I know this is a terrible place to end a chapter- right in the middle of a memory. But the first memory with the fountain and the pebbles is dedicated to an extraordinary reader of mine. One I'll always cherish. It was an element that she had suggested and we discussed long ago. Knowing her love of Hiroki I couldn't bring myself to put the fullness of his second memory, with what is going to happen, in the same chapter as that beautiful earlier one with him and his mother. **

**Given this, I hope you'll all forgive me for leaving you hanging. However, i****t's my intent to have the next chapter finished before the next weekend is out so you shouldn't be kept in suspense too awful long.**

**Thank you again for reading and your support of this story.**


	38. Rejected

**Hello Dear Readers...**

**This chapter took me longer than I expected. I really wrestled with it. P****ersonally, ****the content made it difficult to write on a number of levels. **

**I am also posting a WARNING here, The events this chapter may be triggering for some. Please take care of yourself as you move through this chapter and if it makes you uncomfortable... Stop reading! **

**This chapter also holds a twist I imagine few of you may have envisioned. It may also be very difficult for some of you. I ask your forgiveness now and hope that you can discern my reasons for writing it as I did. **

**Last, I also apologize for any cultural discrepancies, inaccuracies... It's the danger that comes with being a western writer with no significant understanding of the subtleties of Japanese culture despite my research. And while I know this is fanfiction, this facet of my work still troubles me... **

**Though apparently not enough to stop writing.  
><strong>

**The Escort**

**Chapter 38: Rejected**

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><p>Beneath the heavier body above him, Hiroki stilled.<p>

A new shiver coursed up his spine as dry lips pressed to the back of his neck and whispered their way up to an ear. A tongue slicked around it, tracing its edge.

The tang of ginger mints and cigarettes filled Hiroki's nose. Mixed with the fecund smell of mossy earth, this combination of scents caused his mind to surge with unwanted memories and his throat with acid.

"Hiroki…"

The way Usami Haruhiko rasped his name into his ear, low and lust-filled, it rang like a curse.

"I texted you I was home. That was three days ago.

"You know I don't like to be kept waiting."

This sentiment was punctuated by a hard grind of hips up against Hiroki's ass. Caught beneath his chest, his hands balled tightly into fists.

Growling through a clenched jaw, Hiroki hoped his voice was low enough its shake was inaudible. "I told you last time, Usami: it's over. I'm done with you."

"Oh, now, Hiroki…" The words trail off as Haruhiko shifted. Teeth and tongue attacked Hiroki's neck in a manner that was sure to leave marks.

"You should have known by now: you're not the one who gets to make that decision."

Hearing this, Hiroki's pounding heart faltered.

The pressure on his back eased, only to be replaced by the terrible sensation of fingers gripping the band of his trousers, seeking under his belted waist. An all too familiar knot twisted in his belly, leaving him nauseous. His whole body tensed, anticipating what would soon follow.

A light breeze picked up, stirring the heavy air.

Hiroki found himself stunned that anything could move when he felt so frozen. His already rigid limbs stiffened further when the air carried the faint sound of the Umari's calling to each other from another part of the garden. It was distant, but a new terror gripped him at the thought that someone, anyone, might stumble across him and Haruhiko in their current positions.

Either Haruhiko didn't hear the voices, or he didn't care. His long fingers never ceased moving and found their way beneath Hiroki's slacks and his shorts. An index finger trailed lightly over the crease between clenched cheeks.

"This thing we share, Hiroki… It is _so_ far from over."

Hiroki had known at the time it couldn't have been as easy as Haruhiko had made it seem; the older boy offering little more than a shrug and a smirk when he'd finally mustered his courage and issued his decree. However, he also knew that he'd meant it entirely, what he'd said, after Haruhiko had last fucked him. And he was even more determined to prove this point now the elder Usami had the audacity to defile his family's home with his sickness.

In the new space between them created by Haruhiko's shifting, Hiroki bucked upwards as hard as he could. The unexpected movement caught Haruhiko unprepared and threw him off balance. In an instant, Hiroki rolled, twisting around. The moment his arms had room he swung out with his right, his balled fist catching the older boy on the jaw.

With a grunt of surprise Haruhiko was knocked over, sprawling backwards on the ground.

Hiroki scrambled up and far enough away Haruhiko couldn't easily reach him. His jacket was now soiled, the shoulder torn; his white shirt un-tucked. Wild-eyed, he watched Haruhiko sit up.

Despite the bright patch of color on his cheek where he'd been hit, Haruhiko's face held its usual blank expression. There was no denying, however, the fury that burned in his gray eyes.

Adjusting his glasses, setting them right once more, Haruhiko turned and spat. The tender inside of his mouth had been cut against his molars. His blood stood bright against the garden's green. He reached up and gently rubbed the spot he'd been struck.

The slightest curve formed on his pursed lips.

"Well, that was a surprise.

"Do you think that was wise, Hiroki? Or have you stopped loving my brother at last?"

The lightness of Haruhiko's tone did not in any way match the weight of his gaze. Reflexively, Hiroki shifted his stance, his hands clenching into new fists even though Haruhiko made no move towards him. Alongside the old familiar fear, a new fury filled Hiroki but he couldn't let either of these emotions show. Instead, he schooled his features and his voice.

"Akihiko is safely away from your poison now."

Haruhiko's expression didn't change but his head tilted slightly. "I'm disappointed in you, Hiroki."

"First for your stubbornness and second your stupidity."

Despite how much he'd come to despise the older Usami, Hiroki flushed bright at his words.

"You think that because your _treasure _has gotten his own place and moved out, that he's inviolate?"

Slowly, Haruhiko stood up and brushed himself off; his cool eyes never left Hiroki's face. "You sorely underestimate my resources.

"I hardly need to fuck him over myself.

"But… All sorts of terrible things can befall a young man, out on his own for the first time… Especially in the wilds of the city.

"And you, of all people, should know by now- I have no aversion to 'sharing' my entertainments."

The implications of Haruhiko's words and the memories they stirred, made Hiroki's cheeks burn with new color: Haruhiko was right, he had been foolish. When Akihiko had told him a month ago he was moving out of the Usami mansion before graduation and into a place of his own, he'd thought at last his "princess" would be safe.

"Akihiko's not an idiot. He can take care of himself."

Internally Hiroki cringed at this betrayal but he knew that he had to appear disengaged from the one he cherished. As strong as he had been, he had reached the end of his endurance for Haruhiko's calling on him. And he had finally realized, as long as Haruhiko thought there was attachment here, both he and Akihiko were in danger.

Given this, he held Haruhiko's gaze. Setting his features against his tormentor's careful scrutiny, he blinked only when Haruhiko took a step forward.

"So, the shine of silver has tarnished at last? You no longer hold Akihiko so precious?"

Hiroki remained motionless, silent, not trusting himself to respond.

Haruhiko took another step closer.

Though every fiber of his being screamed at him to flee, Hiroki held his ground. He remained solid even when Haruhiko moved right up beside him and whispered into his ear.

"Maybe there's hope for you yet.

"You know, Hiroki, I've become rather fond of you over the past few years. Enough that I might be willing to shift our little arrangement... If you have truly abandoned my brother.

"Take you on as a proper boyfriend, despite your use."

Hiroki lifted his head, his spine straight, dark eyes unflinching. "I told you, _I'm done_."

"So, you're rejecting me?" Haruhiko's head took on its familiar tilt. "You're going to deny that you ever received any pleasure from our engagements?"

Couched in Haruhiko's question was the cruelest of taunts.

Given his true nature, there had indeed been times Hiroki's body responded, interactions where he had felt pleasure. But this only made the violation worse. It was yet another layer of his body's betrayal and left Hiroki loathing himself, feeling he was no better than the basest of creatures.

Despite the strength of his voice, Hiroki was violently trembling at his core. "To reject you would presuppose I ever considered accepting you."

Haruhiko responded to these words like another physical blow. He took a less than graceful step back, one hand unconsciously rising to the darkening bruise on his cheek. It lingered there only a moment, however, before he recovered himself. Crossing lean arms over his chest his expression became dangerously thoughtful.

"I want you at my side, Hiroki. Or, since you're unwilling… Perhaps, more accurately, at my service."

When Hiroki remained silent, Haruhiko exhaled an exasperated sigh. "I don't particularly care how I have to accomplish this. But since we already have a method proven… If not my bastard brother….

"What else do you hold precious, Hiroki?"

The question caught Hiroki off guard. Before he was even conscious of what he'd done, his eyes had flickered off in the distance in the direction of his father's studio. It was a small movement, but it failed to escape Haruhiko's keen eyes.

A wicked grin twisted Haruhiko's mouth, but only for an instant as the next he was off at a dead run, headed for the president's refuge. For a few terrible seconds, Hiroki's feet remained rooted to the ground, unable to move under the weight of what he'd just inadvertently done. Then he was off too, sprinting after.

The older Usami was remarkably spry, his long legs carrying him far faster than Hiroki could have imagined. It didn't help that his own physical systems were sorely taxed with all that had just passed. His labored heart all but stopped, when, ahead of him, Haruhiko slid the screen doors open and darted into his father's sanctuary.

Hiroki knew he could take this opportunity to turn and run the other way to the safety of his house, where his mother was, no doubt, waiting for him. But not only did fleeing carry its own shame, it also only meant Haruhiko would turn up again later, even more determined.

More than these thoughts, however, something else propelled Hiroki forward, following after the older Usami.

Since he was five, Hiroki had only entered this building a handful of times and each of these had seemed a momentous occasion, his time within reverential. The thought that Haruhiko could so easily add this intrusion to his list of desecrations made Hiroki's vision blur with furious tears.

There was no way he was going to allow such a vile person to remain in his father's sacred space.

Entering into the studio, blinking back his tears, Hiroki's eyes cleared and the world seemed to shift into slow motion.

He was aware of everything, the illumination of the studio's interior from the high, overhead windows; the rise and fall of shadows; the motes from a thousand unrealized vessels suspended in beams of sunlight. He could see his father's kickwheel with its patina of clay, the ground around it littered with tiny curls of porcelain from the forms he'd been recently trimming.

Out on one of the tables was a row of vases, drying, and Hiroki was gripped with sudden déjà vu. Caught up in this, it took him a full second to realize that one member of their rank was missing, the empty space between carefully placed vessels suddenly glaring.

Whipping his head around, he found the missing piece. And Haruhiko.

The older boy stepped out of the shadows near the glazing area, the unfired piece cradled carefully between two large hands. Looking down, Haruhiko caressed the vase's earthen skin, his expression solemn.

"I remember now… My father mentioned once yours had quite the passion for clay…" He looked up at Hiroki, his gaze now calculating. "Or maybe... it was that he had _feet of clay_…

"I forget."

The anger that burned in Hiroki's chest at this slur towards his father was quickly replaced when Haruhiko shifted, now holding the vase in only one hand, balancing its bottom in his palm.

"A building like this… Out away from the house… Left unattended.

"So many things can happen." Haruhiko raised and lowered his hand as if weighing the pot. "You know you suck so beautifully, Hiroki.

"What do you think? Let's start small… This vase...

"Fair exchange for a blowjob?"

At the offer of something so minimal to ensure the safety of his father's work, Hiroki felt his feet automatically carry him forward, but after just a few steps, he stopped.

Haruhiko was blind to what arrested Hiroki's movement. It was not the suggested act, but of it taking place within his father's sanctuary.

"No?"

Behind his glasses, gray eyes became thunderous.

"I know what you hold precious, Hiroki. But what about your father?"

Without even waiting for a response Haruhiko tipped his hand over. The stillness of the studio was jolted by the dull thud of dry clay against wood, the porcelain crumbling on contact.

This was followed quickly by another much heavier thud as Haruhiko's body crashed to the slatted studio floor, dropped by Hiroki's tackle.

Since he was small, even with his momentary flurries, Hiroki had lived a life of careful restraint. His violation by Haruhiko had only compounded this and over the last several years, it was all he could do to stay upright, not to be crushed beneath the weight of what he carried and what he contained.

But the instant he saw his father's vase fall from Haruhiko's fingers, like that unfired vessel, something within him shattered and all that had been held back behind his carefully constructed shell surged forward.

Haruhiko had no chance to recover beneath the barrage of fists that rained down on him now. He did get a few licks in, but the blows had no effect. He tried to scramble up, twist around, but Hiroki was like a demon atop him.

Struggling up onto his knees, Haruhiko lunged forward towards one of the tables where a paddle for shaping clay sat, its handle extending over the edge. Hiroki saw his intent and the fact that Haruhiko would go for a weapon to wield against him only added new fuel to his fury.

Throwing himself heavily over Haruhiko's thrashing body, they grappled before he finally managed to straddle the larger boy's shoulders, pinning Haruhiko's arms beneath his knees.

Hiroki shed his battered blazer for better movement. In the next instant he'd stripped his belt from its loops and, despite Haruhiko's flailing, soon had his tormentor's arms bound behind him.

Beneath him Haruhiko continued to buck.

Even now at the obvious disadvantage, his violator continued to assault Hiroki with words. "I knew you liked it rough, Kamijou, but…"

Before he could finish his sentence, Hiroki had torn the loose school tie from his neck and shoved it into Haruhiko's mouth.

It was only when he sat back after silencing him, Hiroki realized the full meaning of Haruhiko's words: their battle had gotten his blood up in more ways than one and in all the friction of their fighting he had become hard.

What happened next would haunt him for years in countless ways, but in that moment, overcome by all he'd endured, Hiroki lost all thought of where he was, of himself, the possible consequence of his actions. The only thing he comprehended was how quickly Haruhiko stilled when fingers slipped underneath him to loosen his belt and his trousers were roughly pulled down from his hips.

An instant, Usami Haruhiko's bare ass before him, Hiroki pulled his hard cock from between the teeth of his zip. His senses bloomed with the sudden taste of copper as he stuck his split-knuckled fingers into his mouth, slicking them with spit.

It was only when Haruhiko felt his cheeks spread with one hand while these same fingers pressed wetly against his asshole that he began to move again. By this time he'd managed to use his tongue to push the tie from his mouth.

"What the fuck are you doing, Kamijou?!"

The last part of this exclamation slurred into a hiss, as Hiroki shoved stiff fingers into his clenched hole.

Hiroki could feel the resistant passage tighten around him. His knuckles burned where the skin had split and the residue of Haruhiko's passage coated them.

He knew the way the older boy was bearing down, the likelihood of actually penetrating Haruhiko with his cock would be incredibly difficult. Pulling his fingers out after a few harsh, twisting thrusts, Hiroki saw they were coated with shit and blood. Whether the blood was his or Haruhiko's he didn't know. Nor did he care in this moment.

Grimacing at the mess, he wiped his soiled hand on the back of Haruhiko's expensive shirt, marking him.

He could have stopped here, drug Haruhiko out and off of the property, but what he'd now done was still nothing compared to what he'd been subjected to. And for Hiroki, in this instant of madness, it wasn't enough.

Pressing his cock between Haruhiko's cheeks, he thrust, rutting against Usami's ass.

Regardless of whether his cock was inside or out, Hiroki wanted his violator to know how it was to be mounted unwillingly. He wanted to shoot his seed on the bare skin of Haruhiko's back, for the older boy to feel the same shameful brand that had been burned into his own flesh.

"Fuck, Kamijou!"

The sound of Haruhiko's voice threw Hiroki off balance but not for the reason he might have expected: he'd heard the same tone often enough in the past to know it for what it was…

Arousal.

There was no time, however, for him to even begin to process the implications of this, as a far louder exclamation suddenly exploded into the space around him. But this was not another shout of the gasping, ragged-breathed boy pinned beneath him.

"Cease!"

It was his father's.

Dark eyes shot wide with horror as Hiroki looked up and saw the shadowed figure of Kamijou Hiromasa looming in the open space of the studio's screen doors.

Not only did he stop, but Hiroki scrambled backwards, away from Haruhiko.

Not fast enough, however.

With astonishing speed his father covered the space between them. Grabbing Hiroki by the shirt collar he half drug; half threw him off.

Hiroki sat in a crumpled heap, unable to move as the severity of his actions, of what his father had seen, sank in. He watched, eyes filling, as his father bent down to help Haruhiko up.

The belt that had bound Haruhiko's arms had loosened now and he slipped out of it easily. He stood, making no attempt to shake off the attending hands of the elder Kamijou.

This act in itself ripped another piece from Hiroki's already rent heart.

"Usami-san…" Hiromasa's voice was terribly weighted.

He averted his eyes as Haruhiko pulled his trousers up and set to tucking himself back into some semblance of order.

Haruhiko's arms were striped from the binding belt and his shirt stained with blood from where the skin beneath had scraped on the rough wood floor. Hiroki stared at the damage he'd inflicted, knowing that with such evidence, any attempt to explain would be futile.

Hiromasa bent and picked up Haruhiko's glasses from the floor. One lens spider-webbed with cracks, he handed the spectacles silently over. Haruhiko took them with a nod before donning them. A dozen cuts and bruises had been added to the bouquet of violence visible on his face, in addition to the bloom from Hiroki's first blow.

Hiroki couldn't help but shrink into himself when his father looked over. The expression in Hiromasa's eyes was devastated, and devastating.

Even more terrible however, was watching his father bow, so very low, before Haruhiko.

"I am deeply sorry, Usami-san." Hiromasa held his low bow. "There are no words adequate to truly express my apology.

"Whatever actions you wish to pursue against my so… Hiroki, I will support you."

The iron fist gripping Hiroki's chest squeezed harder at these words, leaving him breathless.

"Kamijou-san…" Above the still-bowed Hiromasa, Haruhiko looked over at Hiroki. His eyes narrowed and the cruelest of smirks settled on his features before he continued.

"I accept your apology."

Haruhiko's expression slipped back into one of humiliated victim by the time Hiroki's father straightened. "And I would prefer that this unfortunate event was never mentioned outside this room."

Hiromasa's posture was upright now, but it had not returned to its usual proudness. He nodded. "Of course, Usami-san. I completely understand.

"However, such actions cannot be tolerated."

Hiroki could hear both the anger and the betrayal that simmered beneath his father's careful tone. They penetrated him to his marrow.

Haruhiko's act was flawless, managing to appear both appreciative and shaken simultaneously. "I will leave Hiroki's punishment to you then, Kamijou-san. I know that you're a man of honor and will deal with _your son_ accordingly."

Both Hiroki and Hiromasa visibly winced at the emphasis Haruhiko placed on "your son."

"Of course, Usami-san." Hiromasa bowed again. "Thank you. I promise that I will not fail you in this.

"Now I will see you out. There's a washroom in the garage, Usami-san, where you can compose yourself. Then I'll have my servant, Umari, drive you home."

The offer of the garage washroom was not a slight but rather an honoring of Haruhiko's requested discretion, as was the ride.

"There's no need, Kamijou-san. I am not damaged and you know my house isn't far."

"Please, forgive me, Usami-san, if I disagree. I insist. It is the very least I can do."

"Thank you then, Kamijou-san."

Hiroki listened to this exchange take place somewhere above his bowed head. He could no longer bring himself to look upon either Usami or his father. Not that listening to this exchange was any better: hearing his father speak to Haruhiko, the true villain here, like a man wronged and in tones that were so deferential.

"Hiroki, stay here until I return!"

Hiromasa barked this command as one did to a disobedient hound and at the sound, Hiroki could no longer hide his anguished tremoring.

All that had happened, these words from his father... A million actions called him to move and equal number of words boiled in his throat. But other than the shivering that held him of its own accord, Hiroki remained completely still and silent. Anything he might do at this point would only shame him or his father further and the thought of this was unbearable.

As soon as he heard them leave the studio, however, he shifted. He'd tucked himself back into his pants as soon as his father's hands had left him. Now, he scrabbled with bruised fingers to straighten his shirt, to try and smooth himself back into something presentable.

Presentable…

The word pulled a harsh sound from Hiroki's throat. Presentable was something he'd never be again. Not to his father. And there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say, to shift things.

The truth of the situation was no less shameful.

On his knees, Hiroki curled into a ball, his bodily tremors dissolved into the shakes of silent sobs as he realized it was better for him to endure this shame, to have his father think him the aggressor rather than the bitch who'd finally been fucked into a vengeful frenzy.

Endure… Another word that struck Hiroki now with all its implications.

Could he? How many times since Haruhiko had instigated his torture had he thought death might be better? But in none of these low times had the lure of joining the ancestors shone so brightly as it did in this moment.

Hiroki wrapped his arms around his lean torso; they ached all the way up into his shoulders from the fierceness of the blows he'd dealt. A slight rocking movement took hold of his crouched body as he struggled to hold himself together, the blackness in him growing with every minute that passed without his father's return.

Despite his desperate waiting, Hiroki did not look up when he heard heavy footsteps enter the studio once more. From behind his wild, brown bangs, he watched his father's geta shod feet stop a few paces from him. The man stood there silently, not saying a word.

Hiroki willed his aching limbs to move.

In the lowest moment of his entire eighteen years, he crawled to his father, dropping before him in a dogeza. Above him his father's voice was heavy and rough, as though his words choked him.

"I had fears… I watched you with that other Usami boy… Unhealthy."

"But this?" Hiromasa's voice became all but a whisper. "What, if anything, can you even offer?"

Before he knew that he'd spoken, four words fell from Hiroki's bitten lips.

"He broke your vase."

In an instant Hiroki recoiled from his prostrate position as the world exploded. The air around him swirled, mad with dust. As it settled, his father stood before the table he'd just upended: the one that had held all his unfired vessels. The bodies of a dozen vases reduced to rubble.

"Now _I_ have broken my vases! What is your response?!"

Hiroki's mouth opened and closed like a carp's out of water, driven beyond any possible articulation he knew no other response than to resume his dogeza.

In this silence, Hiromasa strode over to another table and picked up a bucket filled with wash water. He moved back above the ruined porcelain and turned the bucket over. The water poured down over the fragments and splashed onto Hiroki, soaking the cuffs of his shirt, his shirt back, peppering his ruined trousers with spots.

Hiroki glanced up when the water hit him, but immediately his dark eyes dropped from his father's furious face back down to the shards. The parched clay sucked the water in with such ferocity he could actually hear it sighing. Many of the small, soaked bits of porcelain dissolved quickly and Hiromasa grabbed a handful of this sludge.

He flung this at Hiroki, catching him on the side of his face, his neck, and one shoulder, then he dipped down and gathered another handful, squeezing it tightly in his powerful grasp.

"I have more chance of making something worthwhile from this now, than I ever will with you."

"You are a disgrace! Unworthy to be called Kamijou."

The second handful of clay followed the first, though it was flung with far less force.

Hiroki's father sank to his knees. His broad shoulders shook with emotion, as did his voice. "You will clean yourself up and pack your things. Whatever you cannot carry will be sent on.

"I will arrange for a hotel for you. You will not stay another night under this roof."

Hiroki raised his head to stare at his father with disbelief, but the man would not meet his eyes.

"An agent will take you tomorrow to find a place in the city. It will be modest. You will tell your mother you're readying for University.

"You will not come home again.

"You will no longer call me _father_."

At this, Hiroki dropped his forehead to the hard floor beneath him. Unable to hold back the sob that churned in his throat, above his broken noise, his father continued.

"You will never do again what you did today. If I ever hear even a rumor of it; I will have you put down like a rabid dog."

"In the meantime, you will live with your shame."

"Do you hear me, Hiroki? You will _live!"_ Hiromasa's voice caught as he underscored the word. It was as if he'd heard his son's earlier thoughts.

"Your mother would not endure without you and I'll not have her suffer any more for your defects than she can bear.

"Am I understood?"

Scraping his brow against the rough, wood-grain, Hiroki nodded his clay-covered head.

"Am I understood?" Hiromasa repeated. He would not broker with silence in this instant.

"Yes, President."

At this whispered confirmation Hiromasa nodded his head. He rose slowly, his movements suddenly of a man much older than his years. He shuffled away from the rubble of his son and over to the studio door where he stopped.

"You have one hour to right this space. Two more to clean up and gather your things. I will have Umari waiting, ready to drive you."

An instant later Hiroki was alone in his father's studio.

It took him several minutes to find the strength to even rise. When he did, he began to move about in a daze, not knowing where to start, or even how to go about righting things. And the worst part of it, of everything, was that he'd brought this upon himself, when all he'd needed to do to prevent it, was just let Haruhiko fuck him once more.

Sweeping glazed eyes over the shambles of the studio, Hiroki saw his discarded school blazer on the floor. He could at least pick that up. Moving over, he lifted it.

Though he'd only worn it an hour before, it now seemed an ancient relic from another lifetime.

Dull fingers traveled over its surface as Hiroki sought to smooth it, his every movement clumsy, almost drunken. Then suddenly his fists gripped the fabric so tightly, several of his battered knuckles split open again, welling red.

Dark eyes sharpened as they began searching, turning the blazer over and over, then sweeping about the floor of the studio.

Fumbling, his fingers found the lapel again, they hovered over the absence: his first button was gone. Most likely torn off either in the studio or out in the garden in his struggles with Haruhiko.

Button…

Such a small thing, but so integral in holding things closed, together.

And this tiny loss, atop all of the monumental ones of the day, was Hiroki's complete undoing.

He sank to the floor, silent, tearless, and remained like this until three hours later, when Umari finally found him, to escort him to the car.

After several of the old man's attempts to rouse him, Hiroki struggled to his feet. He followed Umari wordlessly out of the studio on shaky legs, his jacket still clutched tight in his hands.

It was the only possession he wasn't wearing that he carried with him, out into his first night of exile.

* * *

><p><strong>So there it is. <strong>

**This is the end of Hiroki's memory you can see why it took me so long to write.  
><strong>

**12/12/ 2014 I would like to thank the reviewer Gummybear for pointing out this chapter conflicted with information the narrative provided in chapter 32- "Family Reunion." My fault for being away from the story so long. That moment of Hiroki being caught by his father with another boy is a thread that runs through and is alluded to in many of my Egoist stories and I'd forgotten how clearly I'd spelled it out here. **

**Hopefully it will not disappoint you readers too much, but I went back and edited the conflicting chapter to make it congruent, especially since new twist is imperative to me right now for many reasons and also the unfolding of the rest of the story.  
><strong>

**Thanks again for stepping up, Gummy!**

**Also, I extend my deep gratitude to all of you other readers who left reviews on the last chapter. They moved me profoundly. I cannot tell you what it means to have such appreciative sharers in this story. The content of your feedback too has been so rich. I hope that this chapter will continue the trend. **

**And I am wanting to let people know that, in the case of a future FF purge, although my stories have so far been spared, I am slowly shifting the work of all three of my penames to my tumblr account: daniel-lazerus.**

**Thanks again for reading.**


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